


To Thine Own Self Be True

by conn8d



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Culture Shock, Dysfunctional Family, Eventual Romance, F/M, Families of Choice, Finn-centric, Fish out of Water, Friendship, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Leia and Luke mentorship, Mentor/Protégé, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Resistance Culture, Rey-Centric, Self-Discovery, Slice of Life, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Stormtrooper Culture, mention of Rogue One and Rebels characters, with a side of plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2018-07-21 16:42:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7395355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conn8d/pseuds/conn8d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adjusting to a new life and new culture isn't easy under normal circumstances, let alone trying to do it when the fate of the galaxy is at stake. Finn and Rey grapple with figuring out their roles in the Resistance, discovering themselves, and what they mean to each other. Adventures in individuality with a dash of intergalactic war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In the First Order, uniformity was ubiquitous.

Essential to maintaining good operations. It helped everyone in the organization to distinguish friend from foe and who was in charge. Or so the officers always said. When Finn was not yet Finn, the people around him for the most part looked the same and acted the same. Just as they were trained to be. Just the way they were conditioned. The First Order was nothing, if not well regulated.

Later, when Finn _is_ his name, and he is free, he understands how this can be a weakness. Perhaps deep down he always understood.

Stormtroopers were highly 'encouraged' to keep their helmets on, unless they were in the refresher, at a briefing with officers, eating, or otherwise specifically ordered to remove their head gear. And even then troopers were _never_ supposed to stare. Unnecessary eye contact was strictly prohibited. As was unnecessary touching, talking, and humming, among other things. The punishment for disobedience was severe. No one wanted to be reconditioned. So it wasn't often that FN-2187 saw other people's faces. Just the officers.

Even Knights of the Ren wore masks.

FN-2187 preferred the helmets of his fellow troopers to those of the Ren. Not that he ever told anyone as much. Certainly _never_ mentioned it to anyone in charge. Troops weren't supposed to think about such things. They weren't supposed to have opinions, beyond those espoused by First Order approved literature and supplemental holovids provided during sanctioned recreation time.

They weren't supposed to have the time to think. Every waking moment was accounted for. The days were scheduled with tactical training, battle simulation, recreation, sparring, assigned duties and nutrition breaks. While doing all of these things, stormtroopers were expected to reflect on the treachery of the New Republic, the despicable nature of the Resistance and the greatness the galaxy would achieve when their efforts resulted in the supremacy of the First Order.

No time or head space for preferences and curiosities. Certainly no time to consider the contours of another trooper's face or personality. At least, that's what the officers expected of well functioning troopers. So FN-2187 kept his opinions to himself.

Sometimes _sometimes_ FN-2187 saw Slip's face. Outside of what was approved. When they were younger in the barracks, before they were on Starkiller base. When no one else was around. When it felt like the helmet was closing in and they just needed to breathe. FN-2187 knew that he wasn't the only person who's face moved behind his helmet. He might look different, but Slip had expressions too. And feelings behind them. And that was a comfort. It reminded FN-2187 that he was not alone. They'd smile at each other, giddy on fresh open air and the transgression of it all for as many moments as they dared.

It was always a risk and seeing Slip's true face was very rare. But in training and simulations, FN-2187 couldn't help but remember it.

Uniformity made things easier, on a certain level. A ghostly data stream on the inside of his helmet's lenses accompanied most individual's that FN-2187 ever laid eyes on. On sight, it was clear who everyone was. What roles they fulfilled were easy to determine. All the other troopers had the same standard issue helmets and uniforms he did. Only the black numbers on their breastplates differed. Captain Phasma was always in chrome. Unit and squad leaders always had red or black shoulder guards.

FN-2187 might have gone on to wear something on his shoulder one day. In many ways, he was good enough. He was an excellent shot, good with tactics on the fly, and he was fast. Phasma had told him as much. She praised him openly in front of his squadron. He was a cadet with the makings of a fine officer. If only he stopped worrying about individual members of his team. Or about collateral damage and civilians. Phasma made it seem so simple.

Not caring.

FN-2187 did not believe he was as good a cadet as Phasma said he was. He was great with a blaster. He was master of hand to hand sparring. He could easily plot tactical advances and retreats and very often emerged as the de facto leader of his squad. But he cared about people more than the mission. Individuals instead of the First Order. He _cared_. More than the Captain knew. About his squad. About civilians. About Slip.

He didn't understand why.

Tactical officers wore black and their faces were exposed. Not that FN-2187 saw many of them very often. They rarely gave much attention to mere troopers. But, compared to what Finn would later see of the Resistance, there was so much sameness to their mannerisms and appearance that First Order officers may as well have been wearing masks like everyone else.

FN-2187 mostly saw helmets, not faces, but he always ended up imagining what he could not see.

And _caring_.

* * *

When Finn met Poe, sprung him from the interrogation cell, dragged him into a closet and realized that they were _doing_ this- escaping- he couldn't help but be drawn in to the spark in the other man's eyes. Poe could fly _anything._ In an instant, Finn knew, just from looking at his face, that flying was something this man loved. And that gave him surprising hope that the whole scheme had the small possibility of working. He'd needed a pilot. And this man was that and more.

Finn's chance to leave the First Order. To go anywhere. As far as the Outer Rim even. His chance not to kill _for them._ A chance to do the right thing. He'd spent his lifetime training on massive ships moving through space, but until that moment galaxy never felt so huge.

He'd also vaguely noticed the pilot's leather jacket. There'd been something about it, even then, that Finn...liked? He couldn't say what it was. The red triangle thing stitched to the left shoulder? The steady ribbing that ran all the way down the arms? The pockets? Something about it he liked. Not as much as he immediately liked the man wearing the jacket, but he'd never really been drawn to an article of clothing before, so that indescribable idea of _liking_ stood out to him. But there wasn't time to dwell on the thought; they escaped, Finn became Finn and he believed Poe to be dead. So he ended up keeping the jacket.

It was only later he discovered that _all_ resistance fighters didn't have shiny jackets. And he found that inexplicably disappointing.

When Finn met Rey, it was her face, her many expressions- the way she looked at him, the way she _treated_ him- that captivated him far more than anything she wore. Or any sticks she hit him with. Not that he didn't notice the clothing she had. Rey was the first non-military person he'd ever really met and talked to. Suddenly exiting a world of utter uniformity to one that was filled with so many different ways of being and of dressing.

It was a lot to take in.

Finn could understand, having trekked across the deserts of Jakku in regulation First Order Stormtrooper gear, how a garment such as Rey's would be sensible. And the looseness of the outfit had certainly worked in Rey's favor when those goons tried to steal BB-8 the very first time Finn laid eyes on her. He'd always thought that sparring would be much easier without the bulky armor of a trooper. You'd be less protected from attacks, yes. But if you were good at sparring, that didn't really matter. He just couldn't imagine having so much skin exposed to the air all the time through thin fabrics.

But that was just a side thought. Something he'd noticed when he wasn't inspecting the shape of Rey's jaw, her freckles, or the way her cheeks got dents when she smiled. He decided, staring at her on the Millennium Falcon, that he liked faces a lot. Rey's in particular.

Later, that never changes.

Finn could not explain why he felt drawn to her, any more than he could explain the certainty he'd felt in Poe's ability to fly him away from the First Order. He just felt a connection. Both made him feel like a human being and not an asset. Rey was as out of step away from Jakku as he was out of the Order. She felt safe. And she believed in him.

So he cared.

When he first met Han Solo, Finn was kind of overwhelmed. Then Rathtars got involved and things really spiraled out of control from there. Well, _more_ out of control. But he couldn't help but notice that the old man was wearing a leather jacket too, like Poe. A darker color, that Finn somehow didn't quite _like_ as much. He was gruff and hard to interpret, but something felt warm in Finn's chest when the old smuggler war hero called him 'big deal'.

Not much later, Han died.

When Finn arrived on D'Qar, one of the first things that registered in the back of his mind was how different all the soldiers looked. If they were all soldiers. There was a semblance of uniformity sure, people wore the same colors and the same styles; pilots in red, technicians in tactical browns, medical staff whites and blues. A mix of old and new looking uniforms. But it wasn't exact. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't the same as the First Order. Those with the rebellion were not even all human.

Nothing like what Finn had been trained to believe constituted an army. He could see everyone's face.

Of course, Finn's recognition of all of this was distant because at the time he'd been solely and doggedly focused on finding a way to go back for Rey. Which, really when he came right down to it, was infinitely more important than dwelling on the manner of his former enemy's appearance or facial expressions. Mere hours before, if anyone had asked him, Finn would have said Starkiller Base was the last place in the universe he wanted to go. But they destroyed the Republic. They took Rey, and he couldn't leave her. He realized it was a mistake to leave her.

It was only after he survived fighting Kylo Ren and woke -without Rey, _without Rey-_ with an ache is his back that Finn started to really stop and pay attention to the people around him.

* * *

When Finn woke up, after a coma of three weeks, he almost tore his bacta wraps, shooting straight up in bed and screaming for Rey. Those first few minutes were hazy and painful and terrifying. The medical staff came in and gave him something because Finn remembered falling asleep again after that. When he came to the second time, he heard the sound of BB-8 chirping accompanied by soft thumps on the side of his hospital bed.

Poe Dameron was sitting on the right, wearing a different leather jacket. It was lighter, weathered and older looking, but almost as appealing as the first one.

Poe's hair (longer and looser than was allowed in First Order regulation) fell into his face sometimes and it did as he explained to Finn that Rey was alive and well. Starkiller was destroyed. Despite the loss of Han Solo and many others, the operation was a success. Rey was on a mission to find Luke Skywalker. Because Rey had the force and used it to save their lives by defeating Kylo Ren.

 _Oh_.

It would never be hard to convince Finn that Rey was special, so hearing she 'had the force' (however the hell it worked) wasn't totally surprising. It was just...

He blinked trying to clear the fuzziness in his head and moisture from his eyes. The ache in Finn's back paled in comparison to the heaviness in his heart.

"Is she coming back soon?" he asked, hoping against hope that the answer was something extremely soon, like this afternoon or tomorrow morning. The next time he woke up.

Poe's gaze dropped to his hands, and his face almost looked as though he was in pain too, like Finn. Finally he replied, "We don't really know, Finn. I don't think so. Sorry."

Finn nodded, swallowing hard. He understood _._ Well, he could get there anyway. He really could understand. This was a war and he'd been trained as soldier his whole life, even if he never fully dedicated to the First Order's cause. Missions matter. Not feelings. It takes time to find a...Jedi. Even more time to potentially become a Jedi.

 _Rey was coming back_. He believed that. All the way down to his bones. After all, he'd left Rey on Takodana before he'd gone back.

Finn missed her.

Odd that he would after such a short time, but Rey's absence was a hurt. Finn was groggy and aching. Suddenly he felt desperately alone. Troopers spent almost all their time together. He'd spent his days with fire-team and their larger flame squad for as long as he could remember. A part of a unit. Nines and Zeros. Slip. All dead now, along with all the others on Starkiller, if what Poe said was true. Even after leaving the First Order he'd been with Han and Chewie and BB-8. With _Rey_. A sort of new unit. Now he felt adrift, like a TIE fighter with busted engines, hurtling through unfamiliar space.

Like he could hear those thoughts, Poe's hand reached out and he patted Finn on the shoulder gently, "Tell me about Rey. It might help. BB tells me she's a great pilot and you all made a hell of an escape from Jakku. Rey didn't really talk much to anyone while she was here. I wasn't able to ask her about it."

The blood in his veins suddenly felt icy and full of fear. The last time Finn had seen Rey, she was not awake. He knew enough about the basics of field medicine to know that unconsciousness should not be taken lightly.

"Did someone look at her head?"

Poe's brow furrowed, "Uh?"

"She hit her head. Ren threw her and-"

"Oh! Don't worry, buddy. She cleared medical. Needed a crap ton of missed vaccinations, and stayed here with you a bit, but she cleared. The General would never have let her go on a mission without getting examined."

Finn sighed in relief.

They lapsed into a somewhat stiff silence.

"I know Rey means a lot to you, and you guys certainly went through a lot. I mean, as far as I've been briefed. Believe me, it can help. Talking about someone you miss," the pilot offered carefully. When Finn didn't reply, he continued, "She hardly left your bedside before she had to go. She'll come back. Don't worry."

Poe believed too. He believed Rey would come back.

Finn could see it in his eyes and that made him feel a little better. Maz Katana was right about the importance of eyes. Seeing them made a difference. He smiled sadly, uncertain of where to begin. How to explain the magic of the scavenger he met on Jakku. At least she was for him.

Perhaps _that_ was the Force.

"It's okay," the other man said kindly, shifting in his seat. "Maybe tomorrow."

Finn gasped and tried to sit up. He didn't want Poe to leave. He didn't want to be alone.

But the pilot did not rise, instead scooting his chair closer to Finn's bed.

"Easy," he continued, patting the back of Finn's hand. "You know what also helps when you miss someone? Distraction. So today, I'll you about someone _I_ miss. My father. His name is Kes. Great guy. Lives on Yavin 4. I haven't seen him in a long time. Probably will still be a while before I can see him again. He understands though. He fought at the Battle of Endor. Makes a mean grilled yanna. Took good care of me after my mother died-"

And for the rest of the visit, Finn listened to stories of Poe Dameron's childhood, so different from his own. Growing up sounded very different from training up. Poe spoke of parents and school and trees. It sounded wondrous to Finn, and gave him some reprieve from his sadness in missing Rey.

He closed his eyes as Poe's words lulled him to peaceful sleep.

* * *

Unfortunately, when confined to a bed and without Poe to distract, it always seemed to be only a matter of minutes before Finn's mind drifted to Rey and everything that had happened.

Awake, he'd wonder what Rey was doing right at that moment. Was she safe? Did she miss him as much as he missed her?

Asleep, Finn's thoughts were darker. His nightmares were filled with the sound of Rey's head hitting the trunk of a tree. The cries of villagers as they tried to flee the First Order on Jakku. Millions of people screaming in terror as heat consumed them. The bright flash of red light bursting from the back of Han Solo's leather jacket on a bridge far below Finn's reach. Slip's bloody hand as it grasped at his mask.

White hot pain searing his spine.

General Organa came to visit him, but mostly when she did not think Finn was awake.

He had a sense that she was there often, one that he could not shake nor fully explain. At first, he thought she was sliding in and out of his dreams, like Han and Slip.

Like Rey.

But one night Finn opened his eyes to find the General sitting by his bed, staring off into the dim room, as though lost in her thoughts. His instinct was to sit up at attention because she was a commander of a sort, if not explicitly his own. However his back and the calmness of the night kept him still.

When Finn was first introduced to the general, he'd been surprised by several things. Her clothes seemed more worn and common than commanders he'd seen in the First Order. More lived in. She smaller than expected and far from the reviled figure he'd grown up learning about from the First Order. They taught that she was stubborn, selfish, a disgrace to the galaxy and everything the First Order stood for. She'd betrayed the Empire by working with the Rebels and her callous disregard for authority had resulted in the destruction of her entire planet.

They said she was a liar. A war mongerer.

But she'd treated Finn well, allowed her people to care for him, and had not (thus far) strapped him to a chair for interrogation. As leader of the Resistance, it was well within her rights to do so. Finn knew how prisoners were treated by the First Order. He knew what the First Order did upon capturing Poe. And probably Rey, though he wasn't entirely sure when or how she'd managed to escape. Beating was just the start, compared to what Kylo Ren did to people after. No one deserved that. Which was why helping Poe and Rey had also the right thing to do. Not just what Finn wanted.

It was also fortunate that the right thing and what he'd wanted to do were one and the same. In his experiences training as a trooper, that was rarely the case.

The first night he woke, Leia did not notice when he turned his head in her direction. She appeared to be very tired, eyes glassy and small frame hunching in on itself. Finn knew the signs. Two cycles back he and Slip and Zeros and Nines passed an advanced sleep deprivation trial, running battle simulation after battle simulation for days on end with no sleep. It was brutal.

Of course, that was certainly not the cause of General Organa's fatigue.

Finn thought that visiting an enemy deserter was very strange behavior. Against everything he understood about generals, even if he had played a role in destroying the Starkiller. He couldn't imagine Hux would do the same. He half expected the other shoe to drop, and for all the _freedom_ and care he'd received in the Resistance thus far to end. He half expected her to lock him up or conscript him.

"Uh, General?" he ventured nervously after a long moment of silence.

She turned to face him, apparently not very surprised to see him awake, "Good evening, Finn. I'm sorry if I woke you."

"That's okay," he replied carefully. "I don't mind. I've actually never slept so much in my life."

Even outside of trials, sleep, like every other aspect of a stormtrooper's life, was unyieldingly regulated. Resting for days on end was counter to the mission.

Leia's lips curled into a weak smile, "I imagine not."

Finn gulped, uncertain how to broach a topic that had been on his mind since waking from his long sleep. "I just wanted to say, I am sorry about Han, we couldn't-"

It was his fault. If he'd been more knowledgeable about Starkiller, if he'd offered to set the charges with Chewie instead of Han, if he'd shot Ren from far above...there were a great number of things he could have done differently.

The general held up her hand delicately, bringing Finn's words and thoughts to a halt, "I know, you did everything you could. You don't have to apologize. You helped destroy one of the most dangerous weapons in the galaxy. And you saved your friend. Han was where he wanted to be. Where _I_ asked him to be...there's nothing more to say."

In an instant, Leia rose to her feet, abruptly murmuring, "Goodnight, Finn," before exiting the room.

Not exactly the best way to make conversation with a superior officer. Somehow he'd offended her.

Shoulders sagging, Finn considered her words. He'd only known Han Solo for the better part of a day, but his absence loomed large in his mind. It was a hole almost as much as Slip. Not quite the same as Rey, because at least she was alive. As far as he knew.

Even if the stories the First Order told about Han and Leia were not completely true (and some were far too vulgar to associate with the dignified general Finn had seen thus far), it was clear that they cared for each other deeply. The way family does.

_"Take off that mask."_

_"What do you think you'll see, if I do?"_

_"The face of my son..."_

Family. That's why Han would risk it all to talk to Kylo Ren. The hole for Han that Leia had must be millions of times larger than Finn's.

Perhaps the General felt the fault was hers.

Finn didn't completely understand families, but he'd wondered about them since he was very small. He would likely never find his family again among the millions of people in the galaxy and with no idea where to start. Though troopers studied familial units in their learning on civilians, it was forbidden to even think of such things in relation to themselves. Of course that didn't stop the smallest cadets from whispering to each other about the topic late into the night. Perhaps a father was like a squad captain? They praised you when you did well. Mothers must be like the tailors that scanned and measured their arms and legs for new armor as they grew. Because they actually _touched_ you gently and praised you when you were ready for a bigger set of armor.

Slip fancied his family was proud he when he outgrew his armor and helmets. (None of the rest of them had bothered to comment on the fact that Slip grew the slowest of all of squad and needed upgraded gear the least often, so it was hardly an accomplishment.)

Finn had not indulged in thought of family as much as Slip, but he knew if _he_ had a father like Han, and if _he_ had a mother like Leia, he'd have left Star Killer Base in a heartbeat. If Finn had a family, he'd never want to be apart from them.

 _Never_ hurt them.

It seemed insane that Finn had made his escape alone. Well nearly alone, after all he'd left with Poe and run into Rey and the rest. But he'd chosen to leave on his own. He had no one to run _to_. No parents, no family. Han Solo approached his son with open arms, and offered to help him escape. But Ren chose to kill his father instead.

In the end, Finn realized as the first hints of dawn appeared through the windows of the medical center, it was all Ren's fault and his alone. A bad choice that made all the difference. Rey was absolutely right about him.

A monster.

Finn frowned, thinking of Rey, blinking rapidly as his eyes started to itch. He wished she was here with him. He wondered if she'd found Luke Skywalker. The general's brother. Ren's uncle. He wondered what she would think of this place? What she'd say if she met Poe or his doctors or the General? He recalled her look of shock and wonder as Han landed on Takodana. The same look she'd had when they walked into the castle. And when Maz had dished food onto Rey's plate.

Finn closed his eyes. He did not rest well.

* * *

The fifth day Finn was awake, he was feeling particularly useless. He couldn't stand that he _still_ couldn't stand. He was no use to anyone cooped up in a medical bed. And Finn knew well what happened to troops who were no longer useful. The weakest links. At least in the First Order. He was learning every day just how different the Resistance really was from everything he knew, but the sense of helplessness as he waited for his injury to recover was hard to shake.

These people, the resistance, they knew nothing about him, but they were putting energy, food, and _resources_ into his recovery. So freely, and without any clear demand for anything in return. They could at least question him? But his doctors told him not to worry and to rest and focus on getting better. Finn couldn't quite trust that, so the rate of his recovery irritated him.

Because at some point surely, goodwill ran out. Especially for someone who was once an enemy.

And then of course, there were times when Finn woke from sleep and _forgot_ that he was with the Resistance. For a moment, especially if it was dark, he'd think he was in a First Order medical bay. He would be FN-2187 again. His chest froze in panic, because one way or another troopers did not spend long periods of time in medical bays.

They either got well quickly or never returned to the barracks.

The infirmary was a place stormtroopers never wanted to go. Sometimes troops, if too badly weakened, weren't even taken to the medical center. It was more efficient and far easier to replace a trooper than it was to wait for one to recover. New cohorts were created with every planet occupied by the First Order.

Waiting for his body to recover worried Finn.

Poe somehow seemed to know all of this when he and BB-8 came for their daily visit because that was the day the pilot brought _the_ leather jacket. A gift. His jacket.

Finn gaped.

BB-8 chirped something that almost seemed affectionate as Poe shrugged casually and smiled, "Thought you should have it back. It's been through as much as you have. Fixed it up for you. Good as new now. Well, almost. My father was always better at needlework than me and...well, it will do. It's will be ready to go when you are."

Here, people and jackets alike were _repaired_.

Finn grinned, reaching out a hand running his fingers down the new stitches. He still liked this jacket. He'd give the jacket back to Poe in a heartbeat if the pilot changed his mind and asked for it, but somehow Finn had the feeling that wouldn't happen. The jacket felt like a promise of future things. It felt strange to have a possession, even so. In his old life, everything belonged to the First Order.

Even stormtroopers themselves.

"You'll need it," Poe continued, making himself more comfortable in the bedside chair. "It's a bit chilly here on D'Qar. Good weather for flying though."

"Would _you_ ever say any weather is bad for flying?" Finn recalled the pilot's cry of joy as their TIE fighter zipped through the stars, avoiding heavy fire from the First Order. Not exactly weather, but far from optimal conditions.

Poe looked smug, "Some days are more challenging than others..."

He crossed his leg and Finn's gaze was drawn to the pilot's footwear. Shiny, like General Hux's, but somehow less ominous. Better than the boots trooper cadets had to wear. He'd never enjoyed those.

Cocking his head to one side, Finn teased, "But you like a challenge?"

"I certainly do."

They laughed.

"When you get sprung, I'll take you up sometime in an A-Wing or something. Ever wanted to learn to fly? This is a really lovely planet."

Carefully considering the brief time he'd spent outside on this planet while conscious, it seemed as though it would be nice enough. Green and moist. At least it wasn't Jakku. And the thought of getting out in the air and flying with the pilot again, in less life threatening circumstances was very appealing. Poe was nice. He visited Finn every day (sometimes twice a day) and Finn was glad for the visits. It was something to look forward to.

Poe kept him up to date on goings on at D'Qar base. Most of which were almost exclusively topics that Finn was sure never made it into any official Resistance officer reports, such as critiques of the new cafeteria menu now that supply lines from the Republic were disrupted and tales of lost bets and pranks among the pilots and ground teams.

Fascinating to Finn in many ways, but not, strictly speaking, things that an enemy defector (or whatever he was now) needed to be told.

Leaning forward, almost conspiratorially, Poe added, "It's great. I'll show you everything, buddy. We're an alright bunch, the Resistance. Despite nasty rumors you may have heard."

They both chuckled. Finn thought of all the First Order approved material about the Resistance he'd been taught. Nasty was a generous description.

"I'll show you the ropes, bud."

"Really?"

"Of course! You saved my life."

In the First Order, other cadets always kept FN-2187 at a distance. He was an outsider. No nickname. No kindnesses. No gifts.

But in the Resistance, it was different. Finn still half expected to be jailed at any moment, but instead, he received care from the doctors. Visits from Poe and BB-8. Food and a jacket. Poe had called him a good man, not a promising trooper, and _never_ a number. Finn wasn't sure he believed the resistance pilot any more than he'd believed Phasma or the First Order, but it was pleasant to hear.

He beamed, truly smiling for the first time since waking up, "I'd like that."

Poe left like a friend.

* * *

General Organa visited him again that night, but Finn kept his eyes closed and his breathing even.

After her last visit, Finn didn't want to offend her further. Then again, perhaps she'd come back to question him? Finn wasn't sure, and so continued to feign unconsciousness. If General Organa moved to wake him, he would open his eyes and tell her anything she asked.

But Leia didn't try to wake him up. The general sat by his bedside for several minutes. Just breathing. Looking at him, Finn supposed. Then she stood up and tucked his blankets closer around his shoulders. He wasn't particularly hot or cold, but something about her action made Finn feel warmer. Calmer even. And something else he didn't have the words to really describe. A kind of peace and gratitude. Like when Han let him keep the blaster when he tried to leave on Takodana. The feeling almost lulled him to into his pretend sleep.

Finn debated briefly and decided to open his eyes. By the time he did, the general was gone.

* * *

Two days later, Finn wore his repaired jacket in the foggy air outside the medical center as he took his first shaky steps under Dr. Kalonia's warm gaze. He needed a walker and he didn't make it very far, but she told him not to worry and that his recovery was actually going better than the staff had anticipated. Better than he knew. He would be just fine.

"Lightsaber wounds aren't something we've had much experience with these days, and they are no small thing. You're doing _so_ well."

Finn wasn't sure how she knew that he was worried, but he took comfort from her words all the same. He still hated how useless and weak he felt.

As his condition improved, to pass the time and to keep his mind off missing Rey, Finn ended up spending his wakeful hours observing people. The medical centers in the First Order were staffed mostly with droids. The Resistance medical center had a lot of droids too, but it had many more people. And they were all different and didn't try to hide it.

Dr. Kalonia wore her hair at a length in between what Finn is familiar with. Longer than Phasma (who he'd only ever seen a few times without a helmet) but shorter than he guessed Rey's would be if freed from her buns. Kalonia was firm and didn't let Finn push his body to walk as much as he wanted too, but she also made sure he understood every aspect of his recovery and answered his many questions. In the First Order asking too many questions resulted in a reprimand. Here, no one seemed to mind.

There was a junior doctor called Leurit, a human with dark hair and luminous skin just like Finn's. She was in charge of the therapy that would help his strength return after so many days of sleep. She also wore one side of her hair long and sometimes twisted up, with the other side shaved close. Like two hairstyles all at once.

Something about that, captivated Finn.

One day while she was making him walk neat laps around the room with his walker, Leurit caught him staring and asked, "Do you need anything? Are you in pain?"

When he didn't reply right away, she joked, "Something on my face?"

"I, um," Finn fumbled, swallowing hard. "I like your hair."

She blinked. Once. Twice. Then again. He didn't know what else to say, and it was the truth.

Things became awkward as the silence continued.

He was cautious with the Resistance, outside of Poe, often preferring to observe rather than converse. He didn't want to attract attention from those who might not accept that a stromtrooper was in their midst. He'd yet to meet anyone like that, but he could not count on kindness. Though it was against his nature to be so reserved, Finn figured it was strategically safer to keep a low profile until he knew more. So, when he did end up speaking with people, things didn't always go smoothly. It did not go as easily as when he'd talked to Poe or Rey. Resistance members spoke of different things and in different ways than the First Order.

This wasn't Finn's first uncomfortable silence since waking up, but it was certainly a contender for the longest. The young doctor stopped making eye contact with Finn.

"Oh. Um, I'm sorry but-" Leurit said apologetically. "Well, we're not allowed to fraternize with patients, not while they are in the center anyway, but I also have a very awesome girlfriend on the other side of the base. I'm flattered, but-"

Finn felt a panic rise in his chest. He began shaking his head emphatically. "No! No, no, no. _No_. That's not...I mean, I'm not- _That's_ not what I meant."

In the First Order, cadets and troopers were not permitted personal attachments. Boyfriends, girlfriends, even just friends really. Official romantic relationships were a luxury for officers alone. The squad and the commander were supposed to be the most important people in a trooper's life. And only then if they were not weak or a detriment to the mission.

That said, there were none in the barracks who were ignorant of such things as boyfriends and girlfriends. Indeed, a clandestine hook up or close physical attachment, while severely punishable, were fairly common in the First Order barracks. FN-2187 was too much of an outsider to experience such a thing himself, but he was not unaware. Nines and Quick always took longer to refresher. Zeroes and Tofoor sneaking into each other's bunks at night and making noises. That sort of thing. And of course troopers learned from their training something of the cultures of civilians on planets controlled by the Order. About dating and partnerships and the like.

Finn had just never before heard a person talk so openly about having a _person_ as Leurit was.

He didn't know why, but it was very important to be clear that he was not attempting to _do_ what she thought he was. At all. Even if he supposed he was free to consider such a thing now. Leurit was funny and had kind eyes. She also seemed to be good at her vocation, but Finn didn't think of her _like that._ Not her or anyone else on the base so far. After all, so many things had happened, and he still wasn't even sure what he wanted to do with himself when he was recovered. If he even had any say in the matter.

Plus, he was waiting for-

Leurit snorted, lifting her hand to her mouth as though it could contain the chuckle. She was laughing at him. "Okay, okay. Point taken. I misunderstood. My pride is sufficiently wounded for the day."

Finn never intended to wound anyone.

He tried to explain, gesturing vaguely towards her hair and his own, "Sorry. Your hair is...I've never seen hair done like that. In the First Order everyone's hair was short. Regulation cuts. And, well, since I left, I've mostly just seen hair that is either short or long. Sometimes put up, but all the hair is...one length? I just like how yours is."

That was the moment Finn discovered that his vocabulary for hair was woefully lacking. He'd never had much cause to talk about it before.

"Oh! Well, thank you," she doctor smiled, lifting one hand to frame her hair. "Yeah, here I guess things are a bit more lax than what you're used to, especially for non-combat roles. There are some regulations for combat folks, but unless something is really out of line, it is fine. Command only makes folks change if the style is dangerous. Otherwise they don't do anything. With so many different cultures represented in the Resistance, once you get out of here, I am sure you'll see a lot more different looks."

Still slightly embarrassed, but also intensely curious, Finn's brow furrowed, "Why is yours like that? Is it your culture? I mean, how did you decide?"

"I've had lots of styles over the years," Leurit explained, flapping one hand toward the ground dismissively. "It's not really a look most from my planet adopt, but for now, this is the one that feels really like _me_."

"How often do you change it? The...style?"

She grinned and shrugged her shoulders, "Whenever I want."

Finn ran a hand through his hair. It had grown larger here than he could ever remember it being in the First Order. He'd still been shaving his face everyday after the meddroids helped him use the fresher, mostly just because he'd _always_ shaved his face after using the refresher. But nothing had been done to his hair and it was already noticeably longer. It was different.

"I've only ever had short hair."

Leurit spent the rest of their rehab session explaining her choices over the years (both disastrous and inspired, in her own estimation) while Finn contemplated how something that grew out of your own head, no matter what length, could not really _be_ you. Her laughter was infectious and he found himself laughing soon enough.

He learned that sometimes hair just does what it wants, even when you try to make it a certain way. This was apparently a problem Leurit's girlfriend, Kaydel dealt with often. For that reason, this girlfriend's hair was almost always kept up. Leurit's eyes went soft when she said she liked seeing that hair wild, and so when the ops Lieutenant did let her hair down, it was always special to them.

Finn's thoughts briefly shifted to Rey. What would her hair look like free from the buns? Something in his chest twisted, and he looked away, gripping his walker tightly. Rey's absence was still so acute sometimes that it hurt. So Finn tried not to dwell.

Leurit didn't comment on his melancholy, continuing to guide his simple walk around the medbay, and telling him more about hair and choice.

By the end of the conversation, Finn thought he might understand. It was not so much the hair alone that contributed to the state of being _you_ , but the act of choosing what to do with it. And _when_. And he already understood that whatever is done to hair was not permanent because hair always grows back. It was okay to try many different styles. Experiment with expression, as Leurit said.

"It's your body Finn. Your hair. You can do what you want with it."

Finn liked that. For as long as he could remember, it was the First Order that made all the choices for him. Right up until his first battle on Jakku.

"There's all kinds of things you could do," the junior doctor explained, gently and tentatively skimming her fingers along the edges of Finn's longer hair. "Your hair is fantastic! When you're walking a bit better, I'll take you to meet the barber. If you want."

"I do!"

Finn did not know what he wanted to do with his hair, but there was something about having the ability to choose that made him want to do _something_. He wanted to try something different because he _could_ try something different. It was something he had the power to decide, and he'd not had the chance to make many choices in his life. Considering the ones he'd already made- not shooting the villagers, leaving the First Order, rescuing Poe, telling Rey the truth, going back for her- Finn wanted to try making a choice that was a little less life altering.

Something less stressful.

His doctor grinned and urged him to finish one more lap around the room by guiding his walker, "Excellent. I'll see if I can round up some fashion pamphlets with different styles for you to see. To get some ideas, since you've only seen a few styles. Might help fill up some time in here for you too."

"Thank you."

* * *

By the end of his second week of being awake, the physical therapist deemed Finn's walking ability to be good enough for a trip to the barber. Though she approved of the trip, Leurit came with him, and he was glad of that. It as a very different experience from the bodily maintenance appointments Finn was used to the First Order. On Starkiller, troopers had always been ushered in and out quite efficiently. In the Resistance, cutting hair meant a room full of laughter and conversation.

Here, people lingered.

The hum and chatter of the room barely halted when he entered on his walker, with Leurit following behind. Some conversation paused, and a couple of the resistance waved as they entered. BB-8 was there in the far corner, trilling away with another small droid, next to a small woman who was getting her hair washed. A few others sat on stools in front of mirrors, speaking amiably as barber's cut their hair. A barber gestured for Finn to take an empty stool next to a large, rosy cheeked man with hairs on his face and shirt almost as fuzzy looking as his chin.

Not all the gazes were friendly, but none were openly hostile. Curious possibly, but also probably tired. Finn was still amazed at how much he could understand about people, just from looking at them. Being able to see their faces and not just masks.

"Hiya," the man in the next seat grinned, holding his hand out. "I'm Snap."

Easing into the stool, wincing at the twinges of pain he felt on his healing back, Finn tried to introduce himself, "I'm Finn."

Snap, beamed and firmly gripped Finn's tentative fingers, "Oh, I know who you are. We all do. You're the hero of the hour. I just wanted to say thanks for everything you did with Starkiller. We'd never have been able to destroy it without your intel and you getting those charges set. We lost some good people, but it could have been a lot worse. "

Finn didn't quite know how to handle the praise. He didn't feel like a hero. He opened his mouth to explain that Chewie and Han were the ones who set the charges, and that he really wasn't the hero they thought he was. On Takodana, he'd been so close to running. And the deepest truest reason he'd been on Starkiller mission was to get Rey, not to help the Resistance exactly. Though he was glad that it also had allowed the them save themselves and to score a victory over the First Order. Another case of desires and rightness lining up perfectly.

There was no way to explain.

Fortunately, the woman at the washing station raised a hand and made her fingers dance, "Good to see you up and about. Poe said you were on the mend. I'm Jess Pava. Let us know when you are released and get settled, okay? All us X-Wing pilots have been just waiting for you to get well."

"Really?" Finn asked incredulously.

To be honest, he'd not given much thought to being well and released. He still assumed the Resistance would do _something_ with him. The information he carried about the First Order was invaluable to them. But after that, whether he would be given a shuttle ticket and sent to the Outer Rim, conscripted, or locked away in some Resistance prison as an enemy. He really only hoped he would be allowed to stay long enough for Rey to come back.

"Yeah!" Jess Pava's voice revealed a smile he could not see. "We didn't want to overwhelm you with our gratitude while you were still recovering and all, but we owe you a beer at least."

Snap laughed loudly, "At the _very_ least."

"Okay."

Alcoholic beverages were strictly forbidden for stormtroopers in the First Order, and generally considered unhealthy, but Finn heard once of a couple troopers from the R barrack getting reconditioned for being caught with home brewed hootch. His curiosity was peaked. Of course, he'd never been invited to join. Other troopers, even the ones in his unit, had rarely gone out of their way to spend that much time with FN-2187.

Pilots in the Resistance however, were turning out to be a different story.

The barber wrapped a sheet around his shoulders, covering Finn's jacket, and to his surprise offered his hand to shake as well, "Before we get started, I want to shake your hand too. Hell of a mission, kid."

Finn swallowed at the endearment, unable to respond with more than a nod as he was reminded of Han. He gingerly allowed the older man to take his hand.

Catching his eye in the mirror, Leurit winked and whispered, " _So_ popular."

The barber stepped away and returned, brandishing a wide toothed comb and a spray bottle, "What'll it be today?"

Ultimately, Finn decided to leave the top of his hair long, and only asked for the the sides and back to be cut and buzzed short. He'd never had hair as long as this before and he really thought it was interesting, but he'd also discovered he did not like they way his neck itched from the longer hair when he was laying down. If Leurit could have two different lengths of hair, why not Finn? He had the choice now. And if he really didn't like it, he could choose change his mind.

And the moment was even better than Finn imagined. Watching his reflection change as the barber set to work. How marvelous it was to be able to choose.

The barber offered to carve designs into the shorted areas of Finn's hair and he eagerly accepted. By the end of the appointment, gentle curves and waves wrapped themselves from behinds his ears to the back of his head. He was then presented with small jar and another wide tooth comb. Finn's brow furrowed.

"Helps bring out the curl pattern," the barber explained. "Moisturizes too. Among other things. Use it after the fresher. Other than that, we're all set."

"Oh. Thank you," Finn held the objects carefully.

"Looking good," Pava said, now moved to the seat next to him, receiving her own hair cut. BB-8 and the other droid had moved with her, and both of them offered twin metallic thumbs up gestures.

"You are going to be such a big hit with the ladies," Leurit beamed, helping Finn move from the chair to his walker. "Or the gents. Or both of them."

Sitting up straight and looking at himself in the mirror, Finn couldn't hold back a smile. He could not disagree with her. This was way better than wearing a helmet. He really wished Rey could see him now. Adjusting his jacket carefully, Finn turned his head from side to side. He was by no means an expert, but he thought he looked better than he could ever remember.

Then again, he'd never had much cause to look at himself in his old life. Finn still wasn't entirely sure what his new life would bring, but strangely enough, the new haircut kind of made him _feel_ better about himself than he could ever remember. He wasn't sure what the future held. As stroomtrooper, faceless and anonymous in carefully parading rows, the options had been limited. Conform, fight for the Order and either die or rise in the ranks. 

Later, Finn was secretly pleased to find that no one else he met in the Resistance had quite the same hair style or quite the same jacket as him. And of course, no one had quite the same face. Here, he looked unique and felt like himself. The possibilities for his future are unknown and countless. 

In the Resistance, individuality was not disobedience. Eventually, Finn believed he would stop needing to remind himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Luke both discover that even those with the Force can still be thoroughly surprised.

On Jakku, Rey learned to be cautious of everyone.

To trust is to give someone else the opportunity to steal from you. To hurt you. Even kill you. Indeed for her whole life, with the recent exception of Finn and Chewie and Han, most of the people Rey had ever trusted betrayed her in the end. Not always maliciously, but on Jakku intent mattered little compared to results. Life was one of the least valuable commodities on the blisteringly hot planet. Not that Rey really blamed other scavengers so much. They were all trying to survive. To scrape enough nourishment together to endure another day. Just like her.

Lacking caution on Jakku was downright stupid.

She could not recall what she was like _before_ , but once in the desert Rey had learned to be cautious very quickly. And painfully. To keep quiet and to keep her distance. To be observant. Vigilant. Especially with strangers. Of course, her actions over the past few days surprised her. She couldn't explain it. She didn't know why she'd helped BB-8 or Finn. Or why she'd come to trust them so easily.

But away from Jakku, she'd seen things she'd never have believed. She'd _done_ things that she'd never imagined were possible. A galaxy full of myths and magic.

Monsters.

She was literally now standing on the island of her dreams. Surrounded as far as the eye could see by glorious rolling waves of water. Rey supposed she could forgive herself for her recent lapses of caution.

Still, she assessed Luke Skywalker much the same way she would other scavengers on Jakku, vaguely uncomfortable approaching him in the open. Standing exposed for so long. Never mind the fact that she was revealing the possession of an extremely valuable (and still working) piece of technology, that Maz had told her was once the man's own. It wasn't scrap. Easily worth hundreds of portions. _Thousands_ even.

Her mouth watered at the thought.

The saber in Rey's hand would have been stolen already. On Jakku. Ripped from her grip and gone in a flash if she'd held it out like this at Niima Outpost.

Arm in tact, if she was lucky.

So, when Luke Skywalker continued to just stand there, staring at her, Rey felt a little confused. Then again she was staring at him too, so perhaps he was as out of sorts as Rey. But she'd thought he might be pleased to have his saber returned to him. Or angry that she'd disturbed his solitude. Or perhaps glad of the company?

Something.

Instead, he continued to gaze at her, expression a mixture of confusion and something else Rey could not quite discern. The only sounds to be heard were those of distant crashing as the waters below ran into the rock of the island. It all made her anxious. Eyes on you were never a good thing back on Jakku, but Rey was also determined.

Luke Skywalker's gaze wasn't threatening. Indeed, he did not even quite feel like a stranger.

Brows furrowed, Rey pushed the her arm forward a little, urging him to take back his weapon. General Organa had trusted her to do this. And Leia had given Rey so much in such a short time. Food, clothing. Water. Assurances that the Resistance would care for Finn until he was well, something Rey alone knew she could not afford to do. She had to succeed in the job she'd been given.

To find Luke Skywalker, to learn from him, and hopefully to bring him back to the Resistance. And more importantly, bring Rey back to Finn. As quickly as possible. Something in her chest clenched. It hurt to leave him. An ache, that ran deeper than she could explain.

Finn _came back_ for her. And was nearly killed for it.

Rey wanted to learn enough from Skywalker to avenge him and Han. To _destroy_ Kylo Ren. She believed she would not have left Finn for any lessor cause, but it still was not easy to accept this mission. Rey wanted to get this sorted quickly so she could return to him. And an unresponsive Jedi was far from what she'd expected.

Lowering her arm, Rey decided to end the silence, grateful that her voice held no tremor and did not betray her unease.

"Your sister misses you."

Leia asked her to say that. The General's voice had wavered. Rey understood. Han was gone and so was their son, and he perhaps lost to something worse than death. She could not conjure any true memory of her family, but longed for them all the same.

Luke sighed, gaze dropping to the ground, "I am sure she does. I miss her as well. I miss a lot of people."

In an instant, Rey felt something brush at her thoughts. It was gentle and painless and she might not have even noticed it. But Rey recognized what this was. She knew the sensation of someone else creeping into her head. Feelings that were like her own, but not _hers_. Relief, confusion, disbelief, curiosity and...anger? She gasped in momentary terror and staggered, pushing wildly back with her mind, nausea rising from the pit of her stomach.

_No!_

The feeling instantly vanished and Luke frowned, looking almost apologetic.

"Forgive me," he swallowed roughly. "I did not mean to do that."

Rey still felt rattled. Perhaps he imagined her a thief? She took deep breaths and spun the light saber between both her hands, the switch that would set it alight just beneath her thumbs. Her fingers itched.

Could it be that the great Luke Skywalker was was little better than Kylo Ren? Had she left Finn alone among the Resistance for nothing? She'd not considered that before agreeing to this mission. She _should_ have considered that.

Caution. _Always_.

But...

The stories of Skywalker on Jakku were vague but fantastical. Enjoyable. She liked eavesdropping at Niima Outpost. Tales of adventurous pilots, devious smugglers, shining Empire ships, and wise Gods. And plenty of of bragging about scavenging exploits. Mostly tall tales, she knew. Some parables that taught lessons or skills. Stories that helped her learn new tongues. They'd been a welcome respite for Rey's mind sometimes, especially when she was younger. A departure from the monotonous agony of scavenging day in and day out. A few fleeting moments of hearing other voices and feeling less alone.

Though, she did not indulge unless she thought it was safe, and she could never allow herself to be so drawn in that she was not aware of those around her.

Teedo's stories were often the most interesting, though rarely happy, told in their blunt pointed language. As were those the old women at the washing tables told of Luke Skywalker, hero of the Rebellion, a Jedi with mysterious powers. His story had been one of her favorites. Not that Rey believed any of what she'd heard. Stories scavengers told were like the strange shapes one could see in the heat of distant sands.

Perhaps a kernel of truth here and there, but not to be fully trusted.

After all, Rey'd asked her self many times as a child, if Skywalker really had saved the whole galaxy with magic, why not go ahead and make one full ration a day available for everyone on every planet? Without Blobfish or scavenging or trade? If Skywalker was so powerful he could oust evildoers, as the women at the tables said, why not Unkar Plutt?

Interesting myths indeed. Fun to daydream about. But not real. Even now, Rey would not have believed in the Force at all, except-

Well, she'd used it. Rey _felt_ it, swirling around her. The weird extra sense prickling in her veins she still wasn't quite sure how to describe. Unlike touch, or taste, or smell.

The Force.

Skywalker was a Jedi. Jedi used the Force. The Resistance seemed to believe that the man in front of her was the last of them. The rest were dead. Also monstrous Ren's doing as she'd been told. And so no matter what he was like, Rey knew Luke Skywalker was the only one who could teach her what she needed to know.

He was the only one could could help Rey make some sense and most importantly some _use_ of the strange new power that had awakened within her when she'd touched the lightsaber for the first time.

"Where did you get this?" Luke continued, eyeing her in curiosity and gesturing to the saber.

"The answer is not simple," Rey snapped, becoming terse, still suspicious after feeling him brush at her mind.

The events of the past few days were still difficult for Rey to to fully comprehend, let alone explain. Most of her life she'd had no need to explain herself to anyone. It was a long story to tell, and she realized she would much rather tell it in the familiar surroundings of the Falcon, with Chewie there. Preferably on the way back to D'Qar.

Sighing, she added haltingly, "Maz Katana had it first, and then my friend Finn, and...I ended up with it. I had to fight."

Thinking of Finn and everything that had happened made her throat feel like it was closing.

"It-it's a long story."

"I see," Luke didn't seem surprised. His eyes continued to bore into hers with discomforting intensity.

Rey held the slender saber handle out to him once more, "Take it, it belongs to you."

Skywalker took the saber into his hands and examined it gently, turning it end over end and spinning the cool metal in his hands. Just like she had mere moments earlier. His metal limb glinted in the sunlight.

He pursed his lips, "Perhaps not."

Rey's eyes widened in disbelief as Skywalker handed the weapon back to her. Her brow furrowed. This whole thing was going much differently than she'd planned.

"I'm Rey," she offered. His clear blue eyes narrowed and she had to look away. Rey pointed behind her, "Chewbacca is below. You must come with us. Back to the Resistance. I...I wish to learn of the Force."

He seemed to ignore the second part of her statement, "Just Chewie?"

She nodded, slipping the lightsaber back into her bag, "And R2-D2."

"You came on the Millennium Falcon? With just Chewbacca and my droid?"

"Yes," Rey replied, realizing with despair that he must not know about Han Solo.

She'd assumed Luke Skywalker would be like his twin, able to sense the loss. Somehow. With the Force. Leia had told Rey as much back at the Resistance Base as she'd fumbled tearfully to describe the events on Starkiller. Not having to explain then was a relief. But the desert had long ago taught Rey that no respite lasted long. No spot of shade or bottle of cool water remained so indefinitely.

"I am sorry, but Han-" Rey didn't mean for her voice to crack.

She blinked back tears. Han Solo had also been a hero in the stories she'd grown up listening to, as much as Skywalker, though for different reasons. Rey hadn't known him for long, but his death cut her to the core. He'd offered her a job and bought her food on Takodana. Worried enough about Rey to give her the twin of the silver pistol that currently rested in her holster. Until then, no other person in her memory, with the exception of Finn, had ever given Rey so much consideration. She supposed Ren's taunting in that room was correct.

After all, he'd stolen the thoughts from her own mind.

_"I think I can handle myself."_

_"I know you do, that's why I'm giving it to you."_

Rey didn't know much about fathers. Not really. But Han Solo was the closest thing she'd ever had. She missed him. Rey couldn't imagine that the one person who actually was lucky enough to have Han as a father would _murder_ him. Rey would give anything, portions or water even, just to spend a few more minutes with Han. It had all been so sudden and fast.

She wished she'd said yes to the job. Then perhaps none of it would have happened. It was her fault. Han and Finn both. They'd only come to rescue Rey. Because she ran. Because the Force had frightened her.

"He was killed," she managed to get out thickly. "His son-used to be his son..."

"Kylo Ren?"

"Yes."

"He's the one you fought."

It could have been a question, _should have been a question_ , but from the tone of Skywalker's voice, Rey could tell it wasn't. Something like awe seemed to slip into his features.

"Yes," she replied, somewhat unnecessarily, swallowing hard but managing to keep the tears at bay. "I'm sorry."

Luke's expression turned mournful, "I did feel a disturbance in the Force. I hoped to be wrong. Especially after seeing you. But alas, it's not as accurate a sense as we might want it to be."

Rey scowled in confusion and the ensuing pause was almost as intense and just as unsettling as when she'd first held out the saber. At length, Skywalker took a deep breath, standing tall and clasping his hands in front of him. His demeanor and stance shifted. His lips pursed. An almost smile.

"You look hungry," he stated gently.

Rey frowned. She wasn't sure if she would ever _not_ look hungry.

"Let's go down, get Chewie, and have some supper," Luke said, sweeping past her and beginning the long descent down to the Falcon.

At first Rey was too stunned to follow, simply observing the Jedi's measured steps forward, closer and closer to the beginning of one of the excruciatingly long flights of stairs she'd climbed to reach him.

However, when Luke Skywalker carefully gathered his robes into his hands and leaped off the edge of the cliff, she all but flew to the top of the stairs gasping in horror.

Granted, this meeting hadn't gone as smoothly as Rey had imagined, but surely being discovered on this desolate island wouldn't make the great Luke Skywalker decide to... _kill himself?!_

Surely?

And yes, perhaps hearing about the death of Han Solo, who was indeed murdered by Luke's own nephew was a lot to take in, but on Jakku, especially when scavenging was bad, she'd known something of despair, of loneliness, and of wanting an end. Considered while climbing wreckage in the graveyard how easy it would be to simply let go. How easy it would be to let her knife slip, while gutting a machine for scrap. How easy it would be to simply stop trying to earn portions altogether. Those feelings didn't overwhelm when circumstances were bearable. Even though he was alone, here Skywalker had green grass, cool breezes, and enough water to drink for a lifetime. And an end to his isolation in the flesh (and metal) with the arrival of Rey, Chewbacca, and R2-D2.

There was no reason to- _surely not._

Rey's heart thundered in her chest as she arrived at the top of the stairs, just in time to see Luke Skywalker settle gracefully onto the solid ground at the landing of the first flight of stairs. He lifted his head to flash her a small grin.

"Permit an old man a few tricks. Though, my knees aren't what they used to be."

"That-" Rey stammered, throat suddenly dry and knees unreasonably shaky. "That was not funny! You... _how_?"

"A lesson for another day perhaps," Luke called out. "Today, I want you to simply walk down the stairs, taking care as you normally would, but see if you can expand your mind, find the Force. Let it walk with you."

Unbidden memories of the fight against Kylo Ren appeared in Rey's mind. Of being pushed back by his saber to a cliff's edge. Standing firm. Finding the Force.

Balance.

Her eyes widened in realization, "So, you'll teach me?"

Something flashed in the eyes of Luke Skywalker. He pursed his lips.

"I might."

* * *

Rey didn't really know much about reunions. Not firsthand, anyway.

She'd thought about them a lot. Especially as a child. When she was small, and still sleeping atop a dusty mat on Unkar Plutt's floor, Rey would close her eyes and try to imagine what it would be like when her family returned. She imagined someone smiling at her, soothing her aches and pains. Singing her to sleep. Giving her portions. She'd wrap her arms around herself and pretend she was being held. Maybe even by someone who would lift her into the air for a hug.

As the years went by, Rey was hard pressed to say whether she had any actual recollections of her family or if all the images she had in her mind were simply figments of her imagination. When she thought about it too deeply, her chest ached and mind became fuzzy, like looking at the downed ships of the graveyard under the boiling sun. She longed for the day someone would come to Niima and actually recognize her.

Someday.

Rey had seen a few moments of reunion at Niima, but her hug with Finn was the only real taste of it she'd ever had for herself. The shock and joy at seeing him and the warmth of his embrace- she would never forget. Finn was the only person who'd _ever_ come back for her. She wasn't very familiar with embraces, (touch was also hardly ever a good thing on Jakku) but she hadn't wanted that one to end. Despite dangerous the circumstances, that small moment was probably one of the best of her whole life.

It's memory, bright and fierce and comforting, would probably have to do. Whether Finn would be happy to see her again on her return, Rey was uncertain. She'd left him, after all. Even if it was for good reasons.

As before at Niima, for this reunion, Rey was an outsider.

She hung back from the ramp of the Falcon, watching as Luke approached Chewbacca, expression somber.

"Hello, old friend."

His voice was almost a whisper, but it was enough invitation for Chewbacca to rumble loudly and bump Luke's shoulder with his own. The wookie continued, chastising Luke with deep rumbling trills.

"I know," Skywalker admitted. "I have been away far too long."

R2-D2 whistled.

"I did leave a map," Luke agreed, reaching down and running his fingers across the droid's shining dome as the wookie at his side huffed. "You've done well, R2."

The little bot continued to chatter and beep, making small circles around their old master. Chewbacca turned back to look at the Falcon and crooned mournfully.

"Chewie," Skywalker's voice was thick. "I am so sorry about Han. I'm sorry about all of this..."

The tall wookie pulled the old Jedi into a strong embrace.

And suddenly, Rey found her self uncomfortable observing them hold each other. And very much alone. Chewbacca was kind to her, if occasionally gruff in his grief over Han on their journey to the planet. He didn't seem to mind that much of what she knew of Shyriiwook was very vulgar indeed, picked up from wookie bounty hunter's at Niima, and far from comforting. Rey hadn't much idea how to help him, let alone herself in dealing with the loss. Now he had Luke. So did R2-D2. Han was dead. Finn, the only real human friend she'd ever had was unconscious on another planet. So was BB-8. Even her pilot doll, her main childhood companion, was forever lost to her.

She took a few steps back and swallowed.

Much as Rey wanted to prepare for the return to D'Qar, and to pin down exactly what Skywalker meant when he said he _might_ teach her, she could see that Chewbacca and Luke needed a moment. They were old friends, as all the stories said and this felt private.

She'd managed most of her life without people, so she could let these two have some time without her intrusion. She could wait.

She was good at that.

Rey wrapped her arms around herself and looked down at boots. They were one of only a few things left of her old clothes and seemingly her old life. Leia had offered new ones, when she'd given Rey the rest of her new garments, but Rey had declined. It was one step too many. They were too impossibly generous in the Resistance. She was just a scavenger, this mission and all the Force stuff aside, there were certainly actual Resistance fighters who needed boots. They'd given her so much and the mission was already a daunting exchange. Above all, their pledge to care for Finn until he was well was all Rey really needed or wanted.

Besides, her boots were still in usable condition.

Only a year or so back, Rey had salvaged a working ion particle converter and traded for them in the market. She'd been fairly certain at that point that her feet had stopped growing, and though the haul would have gotten her at least three and a quarter portions, she'd told herself that the boots allowed her to get more rations in the long run. They were certainly better than her old pair had been- better traction while climbing, no need for daily hole repairs, no cramped toes. Rey's new boots suited her well on Jakku.

Who would have ever imagined they'd stand on a world like this? Wet and solid. Slippery.

She carefully made her way down to the place where the islands rocks met the island's water, sloshing gently against the rocks. Rey stopped at the edge and took deep breaths, glad to be outdoors again after several days of space travel. The ship and the base was unusual for her. Too many people. It was easier to think, in the open air. Even if this planet was unlike anything she's ever experienced outside her dreams, and those dreams really did not do the place justice. The sun was descending in the distance now, but it had not burned.

The wind was cool and thick and free from sand. It even smelled wet here. Who knew there were so many different hues and shades of green and blue?

Shrugging her staff to the ground, Rey knelt carefully and ran her fingers along the fuzzy moss that covered the tops of many of the rocks on the beach. Old habits died hard, she supposed, and soon Rey found herself poking around the water's edge, collecting as she moved. Not scrap obviously, but the landscape was full of amazing things she'd never seen before. Rey pocketed a few of the smooth plant free rocks, as well as a strange white shard covered in even smooth ridges.

And the water? It surrounded the island for as far as Rey could see. The mist of it touched her face as she stood at the water's edge.

Kneeling once more, Rey reached into the shockingly cold water, and tapped her fingers against the ripples. Despite herself and the situation, a huff of wonder-almost a laugh- escaped her lips as she splashed with more vigor.

So _much_ water.

She cupped her hands and brought a handful to her lips. The cool liquid tasted strange. Bitter.

"Oh," Rey straightened and on reflex spat out the water, recalling a tale she'd heard from Mashra on Jakku about bad water appearing from time to time near the edges of the sinking fields. Deceptive poison, tricking scavenger and creature alike with it's promise of relief from the scorched desert.

The sound of Chewbacca's trills behind her made Rey jump to her feet in surprise. The wookie and Skywalker had made their way to the beach.

"I am _not_ silly!" she growled back, bristling at his words and irate at being caught off guard. Rey quickly slung her staff back over her shoulders. She didn't usually allow herself to forget her surroundings so easily.

"Water from the sea is salty," Luke explained earnestly. His eyes moved from her still damp hands to her face. "It's not particularly dangerous to drink in small amounts, but it certainly doesn't taste good. There is a spring on the other side of the island that has fresh water. That's what I use for drinking, not the sea."

Breaking eye contact, Rey pressed her hands to the sides of her pants to dry them and mumbled, "I've never been to a sea before."

So much water. Seemed like a waste to not be able to drink it. She'd spent so long in one place, surrounded by sand as far as she could see. But the galaxy expanded much father than Niima Outpost, the Graveyard, Kelvin Ridge, and Scared Villages. It was full of many different places. Takodana with trees and lakes and thick air. The planet where she'd fought Ren, a base really, where Finn was from, white and rumbling and bone chilling cold everywhere.

Now, she was surrounded by undrinkable water. Unbelievable.

Rey cleared her throat. She could feel Chewbacca and Luke looking at her. She didn't enjoy feeling foolish and couldn't bring herself to meet their gazes. The Jedi eyes felt particularly intrusive. Would Skywalker even want to teach the ways of the Force to someone like her? She set her jaw, ready to rebut any comment. Rey _did_ know a great many things, if nothing of oceans. She'd never have survived Jakku, otherwise.

To her relief, Chewie let out a great roar and announced that he was ready to eat something other than the rations Leia had sent with them on the Falcon.

Luke chuckled, still watching closely, "I can help you with that. It means more stairs for Rey, I'm afraid."

Rey straightened her shoulders.

No matter.

Skywalker obviously couldn't know, but she'd walked _much_ farther on Jakku.

* * *

Water from the spring did taste a whole lot better than water from the sea, Rey decided, sitting in Skywalker's small stone dwelling, barely listening to R2-D2, Chewbacca, and the Jedi catch up on their lost years.

The meal, fish (also from the sea) was equally refreshing though it's taste and texture was unlike anything she'd ever had. Not quite as good as the sweet foods Maz had given her on Takodana, but better then the Imperial and Rebel rations she was used to. Better than the food she'd eaten in the medbay on D'Qar and the rations on the Falcon.

She was rather unused to consuming food around others, so as usual Rey ate her meal quickly, ignoring the utensils provided and groaning involuntarily at how good fish actually tasted. She filled her mouth completely before every swallow and finished her portion long before Luke or Chewie had made a dent. She licked her each of her fingers, relishing the last hints of the new taste of fish and chewing her last bite ravenously before she finally looked up at those sharing a table with her. It was only then she realized that the Jedi was watching her again with the same intense gaze, having apparently reached a lull in conversation with Chewbacca.

"I have berries for dessert?" Luke offered with a smile, sliding a small covered bowl across the table.

Rey hesitated. Dessert?

She'd already eaten what she estimated to be 6 quarter portions of food on Jakku, and she wasn't certain as to how much food the old Jedi had. Skywalker had doled out her plate and she was not used to being offered more. It was strange to eat a meal at someone else's table. Stranger still to do so without any sort of exchange. Would the Jedi offer if he did not have the food to spare? Perhaps it meant he really would take Rey as a pupil.

Or perhaps, probably more likely, some sort of trade would be demanded later. Even so, Rey found herself curious.

Tentatively, she lifted the lid and found it was filled with small blue...balls? Rey was also sure they were smaller than they should be but she didn't know why. She lifted her gaze once more to her companions.

"I think you'll find you like them," Luke continued amiably, exchanging a knowing glance with Chewbacca. "Trust me."

Rey took exactly three of the small blue spheres, (because if there did turn out to be some sort of a exchange later, she deemed three a manageable amount to earn from Skywalker, if he asked for compensation) and slipped the first one into her mouth. The sweetness was bright and sharp and moist. It was marvelous. As good as the stuff she'd had at Maz's castle. Better even. Rey quickly added the other two into her mouth and licked her fingers again.

"Good?"

She couldn't help but beam. She'd never tasted anything so lovely. "Very!"

Luke looked momentarily pained, but only nodded.

Chewie turned to R2-D2 and cracked a joke about humans and sweets and blue tongues and for the first time since the Falcon's arrival to the planet, they all laughed.

"So," Skywalker cleared his throat. "How exactly did you get the Falcon back? I knew when I left Han was still trying to track it down, he didn't have any leads..."

Chewbacca shrugged and explained that he and Han were hauling Rathtars (a flicker of almost fond amusement appeared on Luke's face, hearing that) before the Falcon appeared on their sensors and they snagged it only to discover two little thieves aboard; Rey and Finn.

"We weren't the original thieves," Rey cut in, feeling especially protective of Finn. "Unkar Plutt had it at Niima Outpost for ages!"

The only reason they'd taken the Falcon in the first place was because they were being chased by the First Order. Well, more directly because the TIE Fighters blew up the quad-jumper next door. The garbage had done well indeed. Though it was only mere days, all that felt like a lifetime ago. Everything was different now.

Across the table, Luke's attention snapped to Rey. Once again his gaze was piercing, as though he was trying to look right into her brain. Her body tensed, but she felt no presence in her mind.

"Jakku? In the Western Reaches?" he croaked. His eyes closed. "You were on Jakku."

"Yes," she swallowed, confused by his intensity. "I lived there. Scavenging. Since I was small. The Falcon was there, uh..."

Rey scrunched up her eyes trying to figure out a way to reconcile the right amount of time. Her days bled together endlessly on Jakku. She'd not kept ticks for the days at first, so terrified and hungry and certain her family would return quickly. No, she'd not kept time for at least a year, perhaps two. Those years were the most painful but also foggiest in her memory. There were other ways to measure time, and Rey was certain the Millennium Falcon had been in Unkar Plutt's possession long before she was in possession of all her grown up teeth.

"Maybe 10 years?" Rey guessed. "Unkar stole it from the Irving Boys. Tinkered with it and sold some parts."

Fortunately, Chewie rumbled agreement and suggested that the Falcon clearly passed through several hands over the years, but had been on Jakku most of the time it was missing. The wookie sniffed and tilted his head to one side in concern because Skywalker continued to stare blankly. He cast a gaze to Rey, but she could only shrug.

She was as confused as Chewbacca.

"You were on Jakku," Luke breathed, strangely disbelieving and still fixated on Rey, but as though he'd heard nothing she said.

"My friend, Finn," Rey began hesitantly. The word felt foreign on her tongue.

It still made her feel a rush of warmth to say that she even had a friend, let alone one as wonderful and kind and brave as Finn. Someone who returned for her. And as overwhelming as all the rest of it was, knowing Finn was worth it. Knowing he was recovering now, taken care of, and safe with the Resistance? It made whatever lay ahead for her and whatever it's cost seem worth it too. Completing this mission was more than fair. And if Skywalker was to teach her, he deserved the whole truth of the state of the war.

"He was storm trooper. He'd escaped and they wanted him back. And the map. So, we took the Falcon."

Deciding now was as good a time as any to explain it all, Rey recounted how she'd left Jakku and come to be sent here by the Resistance. How she'd ended up with Skywalker's lightsaber and discovered she could use the force.

Skywalker seemed to tune in, listening as she and Chewbacca told the rest of what happened at Starkiller Base (minus of course Rey's experiences in captivity) and how they'd used BB-8's map to find him. He still seemed strangely preoccupied, only nodding and using one hand to stroke his whiskers as they finished up the tale. The rest of the meal was stilted, leaving Rey and Chewbacca to wonder whether hearing in detail about Han Solo's death was too much for the Jedi.

Their concern grew, when Skywalker continued his silence. He rose from his seat and began to clear the table,expression pensive. Chewbacca rumbled his thanks for the meal and Rey became agitated. She was supposed to convince this man to return to the Resistance with her and to teach her, but thus far it seemed as though she was only good at upsetting him.

Perhaps someone else should have gone on this mission? _Surely_ General Organa would be better at explaining things. Rey accepted glumly that virtually anyone in the Resistance, who'd been about in the galaxy and knew more about this war, _anyone_ would better at explaining things than she. A fight she'd only known about for mere days after a lifetime of isolation. Rey a mere scavenger.

Yet for some reason, Leia thought Rey was most suited, so she continued to try. She _had_ to.

So long as the Resistance would take care of Finn.

"Now you know what's happened. How important it is. Will you come with us?" Rey blurted, anxiety about the mission suddenly getting the best of her. "Will you teach me?"

Luke did not answer. Instead he rose and embraced Chewie.

"Thank you for bringing her here, old friend," he murmured.

Rey's jaw tightened. The matter was urgent and she'd given him ample time since landing. She wanted to return to D'Qar quickly, not just for herself, but because lingering was dangerous. For all of them.

" _He_ saw the map," she announced urgently, as the pair pulled back from their hug. "Kylo Ren-he knows where this place is. The First Order will come here. They'll find you!"

"If I am to teach you," Skywalker said calmly. "I think we should first have a talk."

"Alright," she replied skeptically, gesturing between them. "Let's talk."

Luke shook his head, "Not tonight. And do not fear. They are not so near. My nephew is training."

"But that's it. I need to learn too! To beat him."

"Come back at dawn tomorrow."

His tone was firm, but his eyes watered. She did not understand.

Filled with frustration, Rey allowed Chewbacca to lead her out of Sykwalker's dwelling and back the the Falcon, leaving the mysterious Jedi and R2-D2 alone.

* * *

On the ship, Rey was restless the whole night.

Sleep did not come easily and it did not last, but that wasn't so unusual. On Jakku, sleep was a most dangerous state of being indeed for a scavenger. After Plutt had thrown her out, but before Rey found her AT-AT, she'd snapped awake several times to find others stealing from her, and worse trying to steal _her._ Scavenging people was less common than scavenging parts at Niima, but it was an industry of sorts on it's own.

So, Rey rarely let herself sleep too deeply.

The difference now of course was that Rey was very likely one of only two humans and a wookie on the entire planet. And though the First Order and that monster Ren could very well be on their way, the Millennium Falcon was still probably one of the safest places she'd ever tried to sleep. Then again, imagining that Kylo Ren was out there somewhere, training to become more monstrous, was reason enough to be uneasy. Every moment Rey was _not_ learning, she was falling even more impossibly behind. Luke Skywalker's strange behavior toward her further cause to set off her racing thoughts.

Eventually, Rey gave up trying to sleep and made her way back up to Skywalker's dwelling well before dawn.

Luke appeared in his doorway just as the glow of the morning sun was visible on the watery horizon. He seemed startled to find her waiting for him.

"You've been waiting?"

"A bit."

"The pathway was very dark," he remarked as he beckoned for her to follow him up the grassy hill beyond his home.

Rey shrugged and audibly tapped her fingernails against the cool metal of his long lost lightsaber.

"I had this."

Skywalker swallowed uncomfortably and continued walking.

Given that the whole purpose of this morning was supposed to be about _talking_ , Rey was dismayed when they made the rest of the journey in total silence. They arrived at what appeared to be a circle of stone dwellings. Each building had a different stone carvings etched above their doorways in a language Rey could not read. Luke sat down in the middle of them, right next to a large stone slab, crossing his legs and looking at her expectantly.

Still silently.

She glowered and settled across from him, mimicking his position as best she could. The grass was cool and damp, chilling her legs. Rey expected him to speak when she sat down and became further irritated when Skywalker took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"We're just going to sit here?"she snapped. "I thought you wanted to talk. There isn't time to-"

" _Meditation_ is, most of the time, an excellent way to begin the day," Skywalker replied, eyes still closed. "It reaffirms our connection with the Force. It can bring us back to balance after a sleepless night. It's especially important when preparing to do something difficult."

Rey hung her head, trying match the older man's breathing. But she did not close her eyes. Had Luke known she did not sleep well? Was he going to make her do something difficult?

They sat in silence, 'meditating' until the sun had fully risen, though Rey was fairly certain she did not achieve whatever it was Skywalker believed came about through the practice. Indeed, she was left feeling on edge and drumming her fingers against the exposed skin of her lower legs, annoyed and confused by the Jedi's behavior. A part of Rey wanted to run. To sprint back to Chewbacca and tell him to set a course for the Resistance. And Finn. She'd figure out all this strange force stuff on her own and join the fighting as best she could, if General Organa still wanted her and leaving this odd Jedi to himself once more.

Though somehow that line of thinking did no relieve any for Rey's discomfort. A part of her did not want this man to be alone.

She studied the contours of his face, weary lines beneath his eyes, and shaggy hair flowing slightly in the morning breeze. He looked exhausted, but as time went on, some of the tension trained away from his features.

When the sun peered out between two of the stone dwellings, Luke sat up straight and took a deep breath before opening his eyes and smiling sadly.

"That was difficult for you, wasn't it?"

Rey crossed her arms in front of her chest, "It's starting to feel like you don't want to talk to me. Or teach me."

The Jedi chuckled, "As it turns out, that _was_ a bit of a lesson."

Her gaze fell.

"I've never been anyone's student before..." she admitted softly.

Sure, Rey had _learned_ things.

Don't venture into the Sinking Fields, no matter how tempting the wreckage appears to be. Always _always_ check for active power sources before stripping any wiring out of crashed vessels. If making a trade, always appear to find fault in the goods being offered, and never allow anyone to know how much need you have. Lingering too long anywhere in town (especially the washing tables) gets you a hard smack on the back of the head, especially if you're young and unarmed.

But that was all from listening to the odd comment here and there and watching what happened to people who didn't learn. No one on Jakku ever took enough interest in Rey to give a proper lesson. She wasn't even entirely certain how proper lessons worked.

Skywalker watched her carefully for a long time before he spoke. He shrugged, "No matter. Now, I brought breakfast."

He reached into a pocket of his cloak and presented Rey a small packet with his metallic hand.

Berries again.

Eyes darting between the neatly wrapped fruits and Luke's gaze, Rey she took only one. She could wait to eat and did not want to add debt to the food and three from last night.

Skywalker's expression fell, "Are you sure?"

Ignoring him, Rey savored the bright taste in her mouth and considered how to break the older man from his obvious stalling.

"What is this place?" she asked finally, pointing to the buildings around them. "General Organa said you were looking for the first Jedi Temple? Is this it?"

It wouldn't surprise her. A mythical place made real. Seemed to be the theme of her life these days.

Gathering some rocks and placing them in a group between them, Luke took her bait, "I thought it could be at first, but artifacts here indicate otherwise. Ahch-To is a very early site yes, but not the first."

Rey opened her mouth to question further, but the thought died on her lips as the rocks in front of her began to glide gently in midair.

"What?" she squawked, realizing the stones were under the Jedi's control. "I thought...I thought that was only lightsabers."

Skywalker's eyebrows approached his hairline, "Only lightsabers? I just wanted to demonstrate what it possible. You've seen levitated objects before?"

Her words caught in her throat, "Not really. It...came to me."

" _You've_ moved objects before," Luke deduced, amazingly unsurprised, as he observed her expression.

Recalling the way the saber had flown into her hand on Starkiller, at the merest desperate thought in her head, Rey nodded. She'd scarcely believed it, but of course at the time, she'd been to busy to fully process the ramifications.

Skywalker lowered the rocks to the ground between them, picking up one smooth gray stone and placing it directly in front of Rey.

"Show me."

"I-I don't know how," she stammered.

"Just try," he encouraged, gesturing to the rock with his metal hand.

Rey frown skeptically and lowered her gaze to focus on the rock in front of her, silent cursing the old Jedi for his riddles and generally uninformative ways. Did he not understand that she'd only found out the Force was real only mere days before? Never mind that she herself was supposedly capable. Then again, if Skywalker was finally teaching, Rey was willing to try. She stared for a long time, uncertain of where to begin, given that she wasn't in life threatening need of a rock, as she had been in need of a weapon on Starkiller base.

The rock continued to rest on the damp grass between then.

Squaring her shoulders, Rey tried to recall how she felt on Starkiller when she'd done Force things. A warm tingling sensation surged through her limbs. She closed her eyes and the world slowed down to only light, the sound her breath in the chilled air, and the whoosh of her heartbeat in her ears.

And then, Rey _felt_ the rock.

It was there and she could reach out and touch it as seamlessly as if she were using her hands. Though, the Force was a lot harder to control, flowing around the smooth stone. The rock still didn't move.

First, she tried things she done as a captive. Pushing hard to get through to the rock, as she'd pushed back against Kylo Ren. Push it hard enough and surely it would rise from the ground. The air sizzled and buzzed. Beads of sweat rolled between Rey's shoulder blades.

"This rock is not an adversary," Luke's voice suddenly cut into her awareness.

She shuddered and air seemed to snap. Rey opened her eyes in time to see a long crack split the smooth surface of the stone. Skywalker gasped.

"This is what Ben did to you. I am sorry."

The sympathy in his voice brought tears to her eyes. Rey swallowed hard, hands trembling against her knees. Was she as much a creature as Ren? She was doing it all wrong.

"You need not be so heavy handed," he soothed, reaching out with his flesh fingers to brush her own. Rey stiffened at the unexpected touch, but she didn't push it away. His hand was warm and Rey missed it when he pulled back.

"Try again."

Closing her eyes once more Rey reached out to the stone. It was easier to find this time. Now, she tried to trick the rock as she'd tricked the stormtrooper into releasing her. To make the rock sense that the ground was higher. To rise to that new level instead.

The stone sort of shivered, but remained stubbornly on the grass.

"Tricks are useful and good in some situations, but for this? You do not need it," Luke explained, the warmth of his fingers returning, this time to rest on Rey's knee. "Be gentle. Be confident. Feel the Force."

She took a deep breath. And then another. And another. And suddenly the air seemed to still and everything was at peace. Everything was clear. It only took one thought.

_Rise._

"Open your eyes," Skywalker whispered, hand still resting gently on her knee. It sounded like he was smiling.

So she did.

The cracked rock was floating in the space between them.

It wobbled, as though uncomfortable under scrutiny, and suddenly Rey felt strained. Her mind fumbled and she lost her grip on whatever Force spell had allowed her to levitate the rock in the first place. It fell to the ground with a solid thump. Rey sighed, unable to meet Luke Skywalker's gaze.

"Rey..." the Jedi said softly, squeezing her knee before pulling his hand back. "You are a very good student."

Cheeks burning, she lifted her head. Here she was in the presence of a legend come to life, yet Rey had the impression _he_ was the one in awe of _her_.

She gulped, leaning back on her arms and shrugging, "I still don't know how I did that."

"The Force often defies description," Luke admitted with a wave of his hand. "And you are very strong in the Force."

Uncertain of how to respond, but feeling incredibly and inexplicably pleased by his statement, Rey lowered her gaze to the ground.

* * *

By midday they still sat in silence as the sun made journeyed though the sky.

Again, she noted.

Not talking, nor as far as she could tell, having a lesson. The latter suited her well, as her mind and body were still buzzing and out of sort after the morning's activity. However, the lack of talking was still troubling. Something in the air began to made Rey feel uneasy. Skywalker frowned, looking suddenly very old and weary. He reached out his human hand and picked up the cracked rock.

"But really none of this is familiar to you at all?" he asked sadly, holding out the stone for her to take.

"No," Rey replied haltingly, accepting the rock from him and turning it over in her hands before slipping it into her bag. Being able to float objects around certainly would have been handy on Jakku. And very memorable.

"You don't remember the berries."

"From last night?" she asked incredulously. "Of course I do."

"You don't know me at all."

"You're Luke Skywalker," Rey countered, confused by his words. "I was sent here to get you!"

He laughed, but with no humor, "That is not what I meant."

Rey uncrossed her legs, suddenly driven to scoot back from the Jedi in front of her. "What _do_ you mean?"

The great Luke Skywalker had tears in his eyes.

"Oh, my girl."

Anger flared in Rey's chest and she felt her fingers curl around blades of grass.

Who did he think he was? Just because she'd asked him to teach her about the force, _did not_ mean she'd agreed to enter into any contract with Skywalker. She was on an official mission for the Resistance, sent by General Organa herself. She was free of Jakku. Away from Unkar Plutt. She'd promised she would _never_ again allow herself to be under someone else's thumb.

Not even for Finn.

"I am not a girl and I belong to myself!" she growled angrily ripping the grass from the earth and putting more distance between them. Her back ran up against one of the ring of stone dwellings.

"No, I-" Luke held up his hands placating her. He swallowed hard, before whispering, "You just look so like your mother."

Startled, Rey let the smashed plant leaves fall from her fingers. Her anger slipped away and her arms and legs felt suddenly numb. Breath knocked from her lungs, she physically couldn't reply past the lump in her throat.

Her...mother?

Something hazy skirted the edge of her mind. Warmth and laughter. Gentle fingers running through her hair. A voice. _Sweetheart. Stay. I'll come back. I promise._

Her head throbbed.

"You know my mother?" Rey finally croaked, limbs shaking as she blinked away the flash of thoughts. "I don't-I didn't have...You know me?"

"We- your mother and I, we had a little girl once," Skywalker nodded. "I did not see her as often as I should have."

Still unable to control the tremors in her body, Rey pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged herself. She could see that her fingers were stained green. She shook her head in disbelief at the man's implication. She'd spent countless years waiting for her family, imagining they were great traders with cargo bursting full of portions and goods,or fast pilots with shiny helmets, and any countless ways they could all be reunited. But nothing like this.

It was too much to believed.

"Raisa Erso died with her mother," his voice caught before he continued thickly. "Or so I thought, these long years. But I believe she is you. I _know_ you are her."

"I can't be," Rey mumbled, curling into her legs even more and frowning in thought. "I was just a scavenger. Last week, I thought you were a myth."

She'd spoken so softly, it was a wonder Skywalker- Luke Skywalker, _her father_ (if he was to be believed and she still wasn't quite sure)- it was a wonder he'd heard her. He was silent for so long that at first it seemed he didn't hear her. When he spoke, his words were almost as quiet.

"Until yesterday, I thought you were dead."

Rey lifted her head and watched with narrowed eyes as Skywalker rose to his feet. Thinking over everything that had happened, she supposed in an odd way it made a little sense. What she saw when she touched the light saber. Maz's words at the castle. Luke's perplexing behavior since the Falcon had landed.

Some sense at least.

He made his way to her side and settled himself with his back against the stone walls of the old temple. Skywalker lifted a hand as though to touch her, but seemed to think better of it. He left a distance between them and for that Rey was glad. The way he was looking at her was unnerving enough, never mind all the questions the whirred through her head, almost to fast to comprehend.

"Are you sure I am her? I don't remember."

"Search your feelings," Skywalker urged. "You know the truth. Trust me. Trust the Force."

Rey sent him a withering look, before she cast her gaze outwards. The Force was nothing more than fanciful magic to her a week ago. And though she now knew it was real and something she possessed, she wasn't fully convinced it was dependable or infallible. She scanned the terrain, deep in thought.

Trust. As though it were such a simple thing. An easy thing. A safe thing.

She ventured, "Would they-would the Resistance know? Is that why General Organa sent me here to find you?"

In her heart, Rey desperately wondered if Han had known, but she couldn't bring herself to ask. Talking about the smuggler still hurt deeply and part of her did not want this man, father or not, to see just how much. And it was obvious to her as well that Skywalker still grieved deeply for her...

Uncle.

For so long, it had been hard to think about her family as anything more than the abstract. Rey knew many names in many tongues, but now for the first time in her life she had people to put to those words. An uncle? Han. An aunt? General Organa. A father? Luke Skywalker.

A cousin? A monster. Blood changed nothing about that. 

A mother? Dead.

Even in Basic the words still seemed foreign.

"Ben probably knows," Luke conceded, sighing as Rey stiffened. "And Leia might suspect. But I don't know for sure. To honest, Ben and Leia and Han only met you once or twice. I kept my life very private. And you were with your mother, mostly. You visited me on her terms."

"You said Erso. Not Skywalker. I had her name?"

"I loved your mother, but it wasn't easy," Luke explained uncomfortably. "Things were complicated. Jyn and I weren't exactly together when you were born."

Her brows furrowed. She knew she didn't have the best understanding of customs away from Jakku, but this was indeed a surprise.

"You mean the Force can do that? Make new people without..." Rey's voice dropped and she turned in his direction. She meant copulation but realized the only other words she knows for it from Jakku were very rude and far from polite.

"C-copulation?" She made a crude gesture she'd often seen people make at Niima to help supplement her point.

Luke blinked in confusion, flushing deeply. Rey felt immediately foolish under his gaze. There was no way for her to know the limits of the Force.

"Well, I just meant we argued a lot and were never married. But as for your question, perhaps that is another story for another day. More to the point, at the time, your mother and I both thought you'd be much safer _not_ being a Skywalker."

"That worked well," Rey quipped dryly, unwilling to hold his gaze.

Luke winced and stared out at the rest of the circle of dwellings with her. He reached into his pocket again, pulling out the packet of fruit.

"You liked them when you were little," a small ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. "The berries."

Rey could only dazedly reply, "Oh."

"You were very cheeky. On a visit I'd taught you a bit about levitation. That same evening, you tried to summon the whole lot out of the kitchen to your room." This time Skywalker's small burst of laughter was genuine. "You're skill in that area has much improved."

The memories Rey had of being small on Jakku were of starving and being terrified of Unkar Plutt's rages. She'd always had a sense that things had perhaps been different for her _before_ , but no real knowledge of how. Or what a life, like the one Skywalker recalled, really entailed.

Kitchens full of berries apparently.

"Oh Raisa, I have missed you."

She shivered, unnerved by how easily the Jedi could recall the life she did not. His memories were just that, _his_ own. They would not summon the child he spoke of. She announced firmly. "I'm still Rey."

"Of course," Skywalker agreed. "This is a lot to process, I understand. Believe me, I am finding it hard to adjust myself."

"How did this happen?" she demanded with a scowl. "Me on Jakku? I was there alone. Surviving by myself. That is all I can remember. If you could feel Han die-?"

Why couldn't he feel Rey living? Why had he gone on with his life? Why had he left her there?

The fingers of Skywalker's human hand ran through his hair.

"I honestly doesn't know. Things were difficult between your mother and I then. The First Order was beginning to emerge and Jyn was, well rightly suspicious. That last year I only saw you once. And then your mother's ship was destroyed. Probably by the Order, but at the time it wasn't clear. I can't tell you the reasons. Jakku is far from where we last saw each other, and farther still from where the debris was discovered. Though it is a place of many mysteries."

He shrugged helplessly chewing his lower lip, "I felt tremendous fear and pain. Then you were both gone. Just gone. There was no reason to believe otherwise. I didn't know-"

"You should have!" Rey's shout echoed out against the islands rocky cliffs.

Her anger burst out unexpectedly, catching them both off guard. She tried hard to control her breathing and to ignore the itch in her fingers. How easy it would be to reach into her bag and wrap them around the old lightsaber. 

All those years she'd spend wasting away on Jakku.

All the times she'd cried herself to sleep over the ache in her empty stomach. All the times Unkar or some other scavenger had short changed her, hurt her or tried to steal. All the missed opportunities to leave. All the hard she'd ever had to experience, waiting, waiting _always_ waiting. Yet no one in her family had ever been coming back for her. Not the aunt or uncle who barely knew her enough to miss her. Not the mother who'd gone and died. Nor the father who trusted magic so blindly that he hadn't even bothered to look.

Only Finn ever came back for her.

So this man might be her father, but Finn would _always_ be different.

Luke shifted, "I don't know what your life has been and I can't pretend to understand-"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Skywalker nodded, "Fair enough. I wanted to tell you yesterday. I was too weak. You deserve to know the truth. Do you have more questions?"

"Many," Rey answered darkly.

He waited, but when it was clear no more were imminently forth coming Luke scooted over, leaning just a fraction into her space.

"I promise I will always do my best to answer you. This is difficult for me as well." A wry grin pulled up the corners of the hair on his face. "I've spoken more more today than I have in the past 6 years."

Luke attempt at humor somehow relieved some of the tension in Rey's shoulders, and she regarded him carefully.

She could only be honest, "I don't want to talk anymore right now."

"That's fine," Skywalker stood. "Perhaps I'll leave you to your thoughts then. I have quite a few of my own."

Rey nodded.

"Come back tomorrow. Dawn again, for lessons," he paused. "That is, if you still want me to train you?"

She sighed, sagging against the stone wall behind her. Ah yes, on top of everything else there was still the war. And Kylo Ren. And Finn's care. The General's mission. The strange extra energy that was now as much a part of her as a limb. It was not at all a matter of _wanting_. Far from it.

"I still need to learn."

The Jedi smiled, "Good. I will return to the Resistance with you, but there some basic lessons I would like for you to master first. Control and meditation first and foremost. I think four weeks. Perhaps less."

And with that, Luke Skywalker turned and disappeared around the corner of one of the temple's structures.

Looking at the grass beside her, Rey noticed he'd left behind the packet of berries. Without thinking, she slipped it into her bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to be so late with this guys! Real life has been busy, but hopefully the length makes up a bit for the wait. I will try to keep a more normal schedule going forward. Playing a bit with a Skymom theory. Thanks for reading and let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn begins to find a place for himself among the Resistance, though he still doesn't quite understand them. Plus a long awaited return.

Sometimes being with the Resistance felt a lot like aquatic training.

Finn remembered well the instruction he'd received, along with the rest of his unit. When they were small. It was one of the first big training regimes that the First Order assigned the youngest cadets, once they had mastered counting, walking, and standard formations.

FN-2187 actually enjoyed aquatic training for the most part.

He'd loved being underwater. It was quite peaceful. Carefree and weightless. Floating around and not having to wear your helmet and armor. Marvelous. He could make faces at Nines under the water or listen to the strange bubbly noises Slip made when Zeroes bumped into him.

Fun unseen and unnoticed by squad instructors.

But everyone knew it was only a matter of time before they had to surface to breathe. That was the part of aquatic training that FN-2187 had liked the least.

Because it was still a battle sim. There was no way of knowing what would be thrown at the cadets when they came up for air. Perhaps evading laser target weapons that burned the skin? A practice attack of droids who swarmed the pool? A melee of older cadets waiting to wrestle? A pair of gloved hands at the surface ready to hold them under?

Being with the Resistance was a lot like the fun part of aquatic training. Wondrous and exciting. Except Finn just  _knew_  that eventually, he'd have to come up for air.

And there was no way of knowing what exactly lay in store for him with the Resistance when he did.

* * *

A few nights after his haircut, Finn woke to find the general at his bedside once more.

He'd been dreaming of the forest again. Rey flying through the air and Ren's light saber burning into his back. This time, lurching awake with a scream on his lips, he could hardly feign sleep.

"It's alright, Finn," Leia said, one hand resting on his bed, only she shortest of distances from his own. In the other hand she held a datapad. Somehow her voice seemed to ooze calm.

"You're safe with the Resistance."

"Um," Finn started carefully blinking sleep from his eyes. His dream lingered in his mind's eye like a shadow.

The thing was, he didn't entirely know where he stood with the Resistance. How long the safety might last. He liked it here. Visits from Poe. The buzz of the razor as it drew designs on his head. Reading as much as he wanted about whatever he wanted. The variety of meals, even though Poe insisted that medbay food was awful. Having his own jacket and his own comb. Talking to Leurit and Kalonia. The pilots.

He liked the softness of the sheets. He liked sleeping until whenever he felt ready to wake.

But he was afraid. This couldn't last.

"I see you've paid a visit to the barber," the general commented, watching him intently.

He squirmed, uncomfortable under her gaze and averted his eyes. This was one case where Finn supposed he missed his helmet and former uniform. Phasma monitored and critiqued his progress as a trooper, but Finn could not recall ever  _feeling_  her look at him like this. Leia's tired eyes were intense. And when he held the gaze, Finn felt a flood of emotions he couldn't quite explain.

It was the same as when he'd first met her.

"I'll tell you everything," the words burst from Finn's lips without any real consideration. "About the First Order. All of it. I was only sent on my first mission, I'm not an officer but-I saw things. Heard things. I  _know_  things. I'll tell you everything I do know. I'll try to remember much as I can."

He stopped himself from adding,  _If you'll just let me stay_.

Leia Organa leaned back in surprise, "I am not going to interrogate you. You've certainly been so very helpful already."

A ghost of a smile flitted across her lips.

"Unless the First Order has any more planet sized weapons in the works?"

"None that I know of," Finn replied honestly.

The older woman pursed her lips and tilted her head to one side, "Good."

"Yeah..." He swallowed awkwardly, "That is good."

"I am not opposed to hearing anything you might want to share at a later time. Soon I'm afraid, as there are others who will likely have questions for you. I promise I will never send you to them alone. And they can wait. Our situation is not so dire that I am willing to push you tonight. If nothing else, it's far too late."

Rubbing at his eyes, Finn was stunned, "But why tell me this? Why are you-"

"Why am I here?" Leia shrugged, lowering her datapad and grasping his hand gently. For the first time ever, she seemed hesitant. Like she did not really know the reason herself.

"To see that you are getting better, I suppose. How do you feel?"

Finn sputtered. He was fairly certain that the general could easily have gotten that question answered by looking at his medical files or talking to Dr. Kalonia. There wasn't much reason for Leia herself to  _actually_  visit him.

He was once an enemy.

"I feel confused."

He looked at her small hand wrapped around his fingers. Finn had only really held bare hands with Rey before and that had been more of an impulse. Plus they'd been running at the time. It was still wonderful, though brief, because Rey knew how to run without holding hands. It had helped Finn feel less alone while the First Order hunted for him.

He wondered if she'd let him hold her hand again when she got back, and they didn't have to run.

Finn swallowed hard, mind drifting and still thick with sleep. Having his hand held by Leia was different than holding on to Rey's. The hand was smaller, skin softer, looser, older.

But it was still nice.

No wonder the First Order insisted on wearing regulation gloves at all times.

As though she knew Finn's thoughts, General Organa patted his hand.

"I am sorry I sent your friend away. The mission to find my brother is very important and I believe Rey is the person who can bring him back. I know that must make you feel alone. But you are safe here with us, Finn. And not just because of what you know. I-"

The general stopped short and seemed to straighten her posture. "We want you to be well."

"Um..." Finn licked his lips, uncertain of what to say. Eventually he settled on the most obvious.

"Thank you."

Leia nodded and patted his hand again.

So strange.

Finn could think of probably a thousand better, more important things the highest general of a military operation could be doing with their time. Not including sleeping, which judging by the dark circles beneath General Organa's eyes, was probably what she needed the most.

Yet, here she was again. In the dimmed medbay in the middle of the night.

At  _his_  bedside.

Very strange, but somehow also calming.

"You're different," Finn ventured carefully. "Then what they told us you were. They said you were horrible. Vain. Scourge of the galaxy. The antithesis of everything your father stood for."

The general's expression became haunted, and Finn felt a rush of sudden despair as she spoke. His skin grew cold. He didn't mean to offend her.

"My father died on Alderaan," Leia stated, words both soft and firm. "With my mother and most of my people. He was the man who raised me. Families are more than just blood, Finn. I believe Bail Organa made me who I am. And I like to think that I have done right by his legacy, though there's always room for improvement."

"I am sorry," he offered, running a weary hand across his forehead.

Finn was tired and woefully under-prepared. A lifetime of training for war felt like nothing when faced with the reality of speaking to Leia Organa in the flesh. It was late. He was no longer a Stormtrooper. He had absolutely no idea what to do.

Then again, that seemed to be normal for him these days.

"I'm called many things, Finn. By the First Order, by the New Republic. Even here in the Resistance. Some of it is accurate, but a lot of it is not. I don't pay much attention either way."

"That's probably wise," he agreed before sighing heavily and looking down at their still joined hands.

In the First Order, so much depended on rank and performance. Everything he'd done his entire life had been judged, evaluated, and measured against his peers and against regulations. Phasma and the rest of command could know with the simplest check of his record, all the successes and failures he'd ever accumulated. They knew when he planned to spare civilians in simulations. They knew he planned around Slip's weaknesses for tactical examinations. Phasma had known when he'd decided not to fire his weapon on Jakku.

The First Order knew everything. Expected  _everything_.

"What do you think they say about you?"

Finn startled a little at the sound of Leia's voice, "In the First Order? I'm a traitor."

"And what do you know to be true?"

"Well," he shrugged. "I left, so..."

He could only imagine the kind of 'official story' that the First Order would tell other Stormtroopers about him. FN-2187? Defective. How he might be used to increase scrutiny and evaluation. FN-2187? Traitorous. They'd likely create new standards for reconditioning.

Cadets might be hurting because of him. Finn's chest hurt just thinking about it.

"You did not betray yourself and what you believed," General Organa pursed her lips as though again she knew the thoughts that troubled Finn. She squeezed his hand gently. "Here, we say that makes you a hero. Just because the someone with power says something, does not make it true. I believe you can make a difference.

Her gaze was piercing, "You already have."

The way she said it, Finn could almost believe.

He laughed nervously and shook his head, "Everything with the Resistance is different than they said."

"I am sure the First Order said a lot of things," the general agreed. "Things they wanted you all to believe. Things they want the whole galaxy to believe. It takes a lot of courage to choose to think for yourself. Screw the rest."

Finn felt heat rise in to his cheeks and he ducked his head.

He'd never known what to do with Phasma's praise in the order, rare as it was. Poe said he was a good man, but it wasn't always the easiest thing to accept. The way Rey had looked at him when they found her on Starkiller had made him feel like he could float through the air, though he didn't quite know what to do with such a feeling.

"Try to get some sleep Finn," Leia added, gently extricating her fingers from him hand and patting his shoulder. "We'll talk more later. You've got a big day tomorrow. Several big days in fact."

"I do?"

* * *

The general, as it turned out was right. The next day and those that followed were indeed  _big_.

(Not that Finn was really surprised. In the short time he'd known her, it seemed General Leia Organa was probably right about a great many things.)

Leurit arrived at his bedside first thing the next day, earlier than normal, just as Finn had finished dressing. With a blindingly white medical droid in tow, she seemed to buzz with excitement as they went about the normal exercises to help strengthen his legs. He'd recently transitioned to using a cane rather than a walker for support.

And so Finn acquired yet another possession.

As his recovery progressed, the pilot called Snap carved Finn a cane to replace his walker, made from the forest surrounding the the base. Snap said it was no trouble to make in between training and recon missions, as he spent countless hours doing wood working projects for fun with his family on his home planet, and that it was more individual than the standard issue medical canes.

A small way of saying 'thank you' for Starkiller.

Only to Finn it didn't feel very small.

Gift giving really wasn't really a thing in the Stormtrooper barracks (everything they possessed was a resource from the Order and very closely monitored, after all) and though he'd received a few since joining the resistance, it was still a surprise.

Finn marveled at the idea that there were civilians on planets who devoted time and energy into making things. Just for fun. Without a mission or orders.

To give to someone else as a kindness. A kindness no one controlled or dictated.

The cane was smooth and polished. It's handle fit his grip perfectly right from the first time Finn used it to maneuver around his medical room, strangely encouraged by Poe and Snap and Leurit's cheers. The applause was rather over the top. He was simply walking, after all.

Even  _junior_  cadets could do that.

His back still hurt at the end of the day, though rather than sharpness now it was merely a dull ache. His balance occasionally faltered if he remained up right for too long without a break, but all in all Finn felt much better about his health. Dr. Kalonia believed he would soon have no need of the cane either.

It was nice that in the Resistance there was time.

"Today's the day, Finn!" Leurit gushed, happily entering in data into the medical droid's entry screen.

"What day?" Finn asked.

"Dr. K. thinks you can be released today, if your exam goes well!" the young doctor beamed, gently prodding him to stand up as straight he could, despite his healing injury. "And I know it will. You've worked really hard and you are healing nicely. I bet you're just  _dying_  of boredom cooped up in here..."

It was a little harder for Finn to join in Leurit's clear excitement.

Released to where? He had no idea.

Finn had grown used to the medical center, even if it was not the most interesting place. He knew what to expect. Kalonia and the droids checking on his progress each day. Physical therapy with Leurit most days. Three meals a day. Datapads with unrestricted access to holonet. Visits from Poe and the pilots when they weren't busy. Sometimes the General.

Outside the medical center? Finn had no idea.

And he somehow couldn't bring himself to ask if Dr. Kalonia knew what the Resistance planned to do with him. As uncomfortable as Finn felt  _not_  knowing, he was more afraid to know the answer.

Perhaps they wanted him healthy before they did anything else. Leia did say there would be questions soon.

There'd never been much of a plan in all of this. Not when FN-2187 had gone down with his squad to Jakku, nor when he'd chosen not to shoot the villagers, nor when he'd decided to escape with Poe.

Certainly not when Finn and Rey had run out of Niima Outpost and stolen the Millennium Falcon.

The only thing Finn had known for sure since all of this started was that he had to get away from the First Order. (And later that he  _had_  to get Rey away from them as well). He'd once thought to go to the Outer Rim. Only because in all his training, he knew that it was about as far away from the First Order as you could possibly get.

Because while Hux and Snoke and the rest certainly held ambitions of galactic domination, there were still several parts of the galaxy that remained beyond their reach.

Even Stormtroopers knew that.

Finn supposed he was free to head for the Outer Rim now, if the Resistance didn't hold him prisoner. However, that plan didn't hold nearly the same appeal.

Not without Rey.

He hoped, at the very least, he could stay long enough to see her again.

"I know that using a cane isn't a favorite thing," Kalonia noted warmly, mistaking his apprehension for frustration, as she ran gentle fingers down his still healing scar. "Bacta can do a lot, when we can get it. Which is likely to be considerably less going forward, given the loss of Hosnia..."

Finn couldn't hide his surprise, wincing as he pulled the scar on his back when he turned to look over his shoulder, "The Hosnian system produced bacta?"

He'd never heard of that.

Stormtroopers were trained to know the assets and advantages of the well-known republic planets, so that when deployed, ground troops knew to hold those planets and to find their resources. Even when it was not the seat of the new Republic, Hosnia Prime and it's nearby planets were all high level targets for occupation or destruction.

Troopers were expected to know how to handle attacks and invasions. Long before Hux's grand base was complete.

Not only had the Hosnian system been politically symbolic, but it was also notable because of it's large population. In the eyes of the First Order, that likely tipped the scales from occupy to destroy.

Finn shivered as Kalonia considered her reply.

"No," the doctor 's reply was measured, "But New Republic laws regulated and secured our supply lines. Things are more chaotic now, so it's hard to be sure we can get more supplies when we need them. Rationing is must."

"Ah..."

A lump formed in his throat. He found that he wanted to say sorry, though Finn knew he could have done nothing to stop any of it.

Kalonia pursed her lips sadly and seemed to shake herself before returning to the original topic of conversation, "Bacta can't restore balance. You are progressing wonderfully. I'd still like to see you once a week, but I see no reason not to discharge you."

Finn carefully gathered his few possessions and was then met by a bumbling golden droid.

"Hello again, sir," the machine said in Basic. "Princess, oh dear, uh  _General_  Organa asked me to guide you to your accommodations. She sends her deepest regrets at not being here to escort you herself. She is away on a mission at present and won't be back until the end of the week. This way please."

His surprise must have registered on his face, because the droid suddenly stopped short, causing Finn to nearly trip over his own cane.

"Oh! My apologies, sir! I had forgotten that the last time we met you were...well, very much unconscious. If that even counts as a proper introduction...I am C-3PO."

The droid was wrong about the cause of Finn's surprise. Despite her track record of unusual behavior, Finn still felt there was no reason for a general to care much about the release of someone like him. Leia was kind to visit him as she had, but there was no reason to apologize for doing her job.

"Finn," he replied, unable to hold back a chuckle.

Both the First Order and the Resistance had droids and machines to be true. Plenty of them. But in the First Order they'd never really 'spoken'. Droids mostly fulfilled simple functions such as laundry, food distribution, mechanical repairs. Occasionally they supplemented troopers on security duty, but less so than rumored droid usage back in the days of the Empire.

From the minute he'd met BB-8 it was clear that droids in the Resistance were very different. He'd met many droids since beginning this new life, and all of them spoke in a beeping binary that members of the Resistance (and Rey) all seemed to instinctively understand.

C-3PO was the first he'd met who spoke Basic.

"General Organa also asked me to give you this gift." The golden droid handed Finn a small bundle.

" _What?_ "

It was an actual book. Leather bound and slightly worn. Despite it's delicate size, the weight of it felt solid in Finn's hands. The book smelled dry but faintly like plants. He'd learned about books in his training as a Stormtrooper, seen pictures and holovids, and read their contents but never handled one in person.

An antiquated though still effective means of recording and transmitting information, originated before datapads and holonet. Still favored and reasonably popular among some New Republic civilian populations, for both human and non-human species. Not as easily manipulated or edited as computerized data, but still potentially useful to the Order in communicating their supremacy, after successful conquest.

Those books produced by the Order anyway.

Those not produced by the order were to be trooper targets for confiscation and elimination in the event of successful conquest on enemy planets.

This book would no doubt have been on the list for destruction, had Finn still been FN-2187 and assigned to ground operations on an occupied planet. But General Organa clearly wanted Finn to read it.

He brushed his fingers gently on the letters embossed on the cover.  _The Rogue One: The Life and Death of Bodhi Rook by Shara Bey._ Finn recognized both names, but couldn't quite place either.

"Please come this way, sir," C-3PO's voice cut through Finn's shock. He'd stood there frozen, leaning on his cane as the droid had shuffled farther and farther ahead.

"Uh, I am sorry," he fumbled, tucking the book beneath his arm and stepping forward to catch up. "Thanks for doing this. I really appreciate it."

The shiny gold head bobbled cheerfully, "It is no trouble, sir. I am a protocol droid."

"Droids don't really talk much in the First Order actually," Finn added.

"Oh, dear," the golden robot spun on his heel to face forward again, continuing their walk away from the Medical Center. "Most unfortunate indeed."

"Yeah," Finn rubbed the back of his neck, thinking of important and courageous little BB-8.

As they walked, it became evident that the shiny gold droid was completely capable of carrying the entire conversation by himself with no other input, which suited Finn just fine.

He'd been on walks with Leurit and Poe to other parts of the base before, but the corridors to the barracks were new and a little bizarre for him to take in. The structure of the base seemed a bit haphazard, as though it was built and expanded on demand, rather than meticulously and geometrically planned for optimum efficiency.

Corridors in the First Order were pristine.

Severe and sharp. Floors and walls gleaming, with personnel and droids alike moving with purpose and poise. Occasionally disturbed by louder alarms during battle sims, but otherwise quiet. Save for the occasional order received over the shipcomm and whispered conversation via helmet comms.

And of course, always the sound of marching boots.

The base on D'Qar was alien to Finn when he first explored it, like everything else in the Resistance. It was bustling with noise and activity. Members of the Resistance moving back and forth from what looked like the Command Center to various other parts of the base, carrying holopads and sometimes wheeling supplies this way and that.

The mood was still somber, as it had been right after Finn woke up, so close to the battle at Starkiller. But the people walking through the corridors held far less urgency to Finn's eye than he thought was appropriate given the fact that they were  _at war_ , located on a base on a planet that was known to First Order generals.

If the First Order was in the same postition, Finn knew that he and the rest of the Stormtroopers would be on heightened duty and high alert.

Yes, the destruction of Starkiller was a great victory, but strategically Finn knew that the Order still held the most advantages. It wasn't his place to understand Organa or any of the general's decisions, but Finn believed the best thing the Resistance could do now was to try to capitalize on their success and to prepare for the inevitable repercussions.

The First Order would not take losses very well.

He wondered whether he could convince General Leia and the rest that a change of tactics was in order. Or at least a change of base location. Though perhaps that was the purpose of the mission that took her away from the base.

For all Finn knew.

He wondered when exactly the General would be back. He wondered if Leia would continue to see him again now that he was out of the medbay. His chest felt tight.

Some of the Resistance personnel greeted and even waved at Finn as he and C-3PO walked by. Staring and smiling openly at him. Just like at the barber's. He'd never met any of them.

"Everyone here is most glad of your continued recovery," C-3PO explained with a tilt of his head.

Finn lowered his gaze.

It was like this whenever he'd ventured out of the medical center. He wasn't sure what these people thought when they looked at him. Now, away from the confines of his recovery bed, Finn supposed he would encounter their curiosity even more.

As a Stormtrooper, Finn had been used to being faceless.

When he'd escaped with Poe, and met Rey and Chewie and Han, he'd started to get used to just being Finn. Finn who had friends and food and a jacket. Being Finn was great, he didn't regret getting out, but it was still overwhelming.

Among the Resistance, Finn was  _someone_ , though everyone else seemed to have a better idea of what that meant.

* * *

The room was nice.

Objectively speaking. Nicer than anything he'd experienced in the First Order.

It was a self contained space, apparently designed for just two soldiers. There were two neatly made beds on opposite sides of the room, a small desk and chair at the back, shelves lining the gray walls, storage beneath the beds, and a door that led to a fresher, shared with the neighboring room, as C-3PO had explained.

A standard room for civilian and military personnel. It had sturdy cement walls and a thick metal door, but the space certainly wasn't a brig. It was also quiet, with only the occasional sound of the ventilation system going on and off.

Still, even after several days, the space was _much_  too quiet.

Finn had yet to be matched with a roommate, given the losses suffered in the attack on Starkiller there was a lot of reallocation in progress. C-3PO seemed cheerfully confident in General Organa and the Resistance's ability to attract new recruits very soon, so the free space would surely not last for long.

Though, it wasn't clear from the droid's explanation whether or not the general considered Finn to be one of those new recruits.

(Finn wasn't even sure if he would actually be matched with a bunk mate or not. He wasn't even sure that he wanted to be. Despite his dislike of the quiet.)

Stormtroopers and cadets slept in massive open halls deep in the bowels of Star Destroyers and tucked into the heart of the First Order's planetary bases. The chambers were packed with narrow bunk beds stacked four levels high, only just enough space between to climb in about out and enough storage underneath the bottom to store four sets of armor, hygiene kits, and a few practice blasters.

Slip, Nines, and Zeroes had been his bunk mates. They always made FN-2187 take the bottom bunk. At night, for as long as he could recall, the sounds and snores of the squad along with dozens and dozens of other squads lulled Finn to sleep.

That first day the silence hadn't been quite so apparent. Finn was caught up in a whirlwind of bureaucracy, led by C-3PO. He was issued an  _actual_  ration card, his  _own_  personal comm, laundry tags and lastly, official base identification.

Finn watched, with baited breath, as the administrative droid printed out his ID. After a small eternity, the card was handed over. He was listed simply as " _Finn, Consulting Civilian_ ". He swallowed hard.

Nothing about prisons or enemies.

Finn leaned heavily on his cane and let himself take a moment, lost in relief. At every turn the Resistance surprised him. He wondered if he would ever become used to their ways.

Later, when Finn returned to the room that night to sleep, the silence took him by surprise. It was unnerving, especially once the babbling C-3PO left the room.

In the medbay, it was different. He'd had Dr. Kalonia, Leurit and the orderlies to check on him. Poe, BB-8 and some of the pilots stopped by. Sometimes General Organa. Even when he was by himself, the sounds of med droids and doctors and other patients offered a constant hum. Not so very different from the barracks he'd grown up with.

Here, there was nothing.

The first night Finn had busied himself with organizing his growing collection of possessions. He stepped back to the desk, placing the General's book carefully in the center, his comb on the corner and shrugged off his jacket. Then he sighed.

Sleep did not come easily in the quiet dark.

Only the sound of Finn's breathing disturbed the silence. His fingers gripped the edge of his bed frame, nervously tucking and untucking the blankets. There was a dent on the side of the frame that faced the wall, as though it had bumped the cement wall in the midst of a move.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to think of the Resistance fighters who used to sleep in this room.

Perhaps they had reconfigured the furniture. That sort of thing was forbidden in the First Order, but Finn didn't think that people in the Resistance cared much. People would probably be permitted to organize the room in whatever way pleased them, space permitting.

The room's previous occupants were probably dead, just like the rest of his own squad. Indeed, with the entire Starkiller Base gone, likely most every squadron Finn had ever known was gone.

Suddenly the room felt too small. Finn found himself having trouble catching his breath.

So, in the week that followed, he made it a point to spend as little time as possible in his new accommodations.

* * *

"-not like Finn, here," Jessika Pava joked at breakfast, gesturing emphatically with a spoon. "He doesn't have to deal with anyone else's stinky socks or snoring or anything. He's got a room all to himself."

"Hey!" Kare Kun, (who Finn gathered  _was_  Pava's roommate) protested with a nudge of the elbow. "I had Olinary flu, which causes both fatigue and congestion!  _Not my fault_!"

"True," her roomate conceded, bringing a mouthful of food to her lips. "But that doesn't excuse that orange bedsheet I have to put up with. Finn's still lucky."

Kun laughed, "What's wrong with orange?"

"I see enough of that in my day job," Jess continued, glancing pointedly at those sitting around her wearing pilot flight suits.

They all laughed. Finn couldn't help but smile.

As best he could tell, the pilots were on an intensive rotation of training, recon, and patrol duty, yet they managed to find time to eat one meal together most days. He'd taken to eating breakfast in the mess hall with the few he knew, typically including Poe, Jessika, Kare Kune and Snap.

And none of them seemed to mind that Finn joined in, whether Poe was able to attend or not.

(Finn thought that was probably because Poe asked them to, but he didn't mind.)

Today, they were also joined by a couple of bombers, a technician, and a communications operator, in advance of a patrol mission the group had later on. Though, as far as Finn had observed, they weren't just sitting together solely because they had a mission. The Resistance didn't seem to have any seating guidelines whatsoever.

He'd never spent much time alone before, certainly not in the oppressive quiet of his new quarters. It was familiar to be among soldiers, even if these soldiers were very different from the troopers Finn knew back in the First Order. He liked the company.

Their chatter was a comfort.

He missed Slip and Zeroes and Nines. He missed Han and Chewie.

Finn missed Rey. Most of all.

Troopers were supposed to be obedient and disciplined. As far as Finn could see, X-Wing pilots were rather raucous, they swore a lot, and always seemed to be trying to talk over one and other. They cracked jokes, made rude gestures and slipped Finn extra treats in the mess hall.

(Again, probably because Poe asked them to).

Nothing like his old squad.

They had mostly stuck to standard and approved conversation. Back in the First Order, before all  _this_ , FN-2187 had tried on occasion to lighten the mood in order to enhance team cohesion. Because FN-2187 had cared about his squad getting along. And some other squads did seem to be a bit more close.

Then again, in a lot of ways FN-2187 had always been the one on the outside. The others seemed fine. His attempts at frivolous conversation had been accepted occasionally, usually by Slip and sometimes by Zeroes, but were frowned upon in general by the First Order.

Stormtroopers weren't supposed to be friendly.

Finn found he enjoyed talking and the opportunity to talk as much as he wanted about whenever he wanted. No commanding officer swooped in and reprimand him or the pilots for discussing unapproved topics.

Part of the new sort of routine he'd created for himself included looping back through the medbay, if nothing else because it was a nice place to sit and read, plus it was familiar. As a patient, the medical staff had told Finn (and his visitors) to pipe down once or twice.

But no punishment followed.

Even after his release, Finn was permitted to stay and read in the rehabilitation area as long as he wanted and to chat with the medical staff as much as he desired. Leurit and the patients chatted to him. Dr. Kalonia regularly smiled at Finn now, inquiring not only about his health, but his progress with his book and in 'settling in'. If she was on shift when he arrived in the Medbay after breakfast. And as far as he could tell, Dr. K. was the highest ranking physician on D'Qar.

 _Talking to him_?

A general and the most senior doctor, both?

It actually a little thrilling.

Even so, while he really did enjoy the novelty, sometimes the talk overwhelmed Finn. Faced with conversation about his new living situation, he wasn't sure how he was expected to respond. He did not want to seem unappreciative.

A pause in the ensuing chatter made Finn look up from his eating. He was met by a table of expectant stares.

"Sorry, what?" he asked, glancing around the table and letting his fingers roam up and down the spine of his book.

"Don't you love it?" an unfamiliar resistance member, a bomber Finn guessed, considering the uniform. He wasn't familiar with the person's species, however. "Having your own space?"

"Oh," Finn stammered, trying to seem nonchalant, but also trying not to let on that he'd barely slept more than a couple of hours a night since leaving the medbay.

He shrugged, "It's different than I am used to. It's...it's a lot quieter."

The faces around him exchanged quizzical glances. He bit his lip as an uncharacteristic silence followed.

As friendly and oddly nice as everyone appeared to be on D'Qar, there were still times when it was clear that they really just didn't have any idea what it was really like to be a Stormtrooper. Their intel on the enemy was apparently no better than what his squad had been taught about the Resistance.

Finn cleared his throat awkwardly.

Vloss, a technician from the communications center, suddenly gasped as his eyes grew wide.

"Maybe you could get a wind chime!"

Kare raised an eyebrow, "A  _wind chime_?"

"They're very popular on my planet!"

"You just need some more decorations and stuff," Jess suggested. "Something to make it feel more like home. When we get back from the mission, we're taking you to the Bazar."

Finn had more stuff now than he'd ever had in the Stormtrooper barracks, but he wasn't sure if that had ever really been home.

"Uh..."

He was at a loss for words.

Poe patted his arm, rolling his eyes fondly. His eyes lingered on the book beneath Finn's hands. He cleared his throat.

"Sometimes it helps to talk about home and decorating and fun stuff. Especially right before we go do something very serious."

Finn's eyes took in the table group, wondering what exactly their upcoming mission entailed. Poe and the others had acted like it was routine, and no big deal when they told him they'd be missing breakfasts for the next few days. Poe holding his gaze earnestly, and pointing out that a comm team, as well as several technicians who also happened to eat around the same time, who Finn _could maybe sit with_ , if he wanted.

The pilots were certainly not obligated to tell Finn anything and he appreciated that they'd told him what little they could. Though he knew they were not giving him the full details. It felt nice that they'd thought of him.

Poe's expression brightened, "Just let them talk. They'll wear out eventually. You don't even really have to listen."

Kare stopped her conversation with Iolo abruptly and scowled at Poe.

"Hey! He should hang on my every word!" she stuck out her tongue. "Better me than you."

Poe only smirked and launched into a detailed description of outdoor wind chimes on Yavin IV.

"I can understand what you mean, Finn," another bomber added sympathetically from across the table.

The conversation around them quickly devolved into a discussion about decorating traditions and what the pilots would do if they ever had their own proper homes to make decisions about.

"It's hard to get used to something new," she continued. "I'm glad when we joined up, they let me and my sister stay together. We've been on the run just the two of us for so many years. It'd be weird not hear her snore."

The small woman next to her flushed but nodded enthusiastically. His eyes narrowed as he took in their similar cheeks and smiles.

Sisters.

Biologically related siblings. Birthed, spawned, or hatched (depending on the species), during reproduction by the same parent or parents in civilian or officer roles. Not necessarily at the same time.

Potentially an exploitable bond in occupation or infiltration situations, so they said in Stormtrooper training on civilian customs.

Finn shivered and looked back to the speaker with a pained smile. He felt bad because he knew the woman, and her sister, had sat with him for several meals before, yet he could not quite recall either of their names.

Tigo? Tique? Tico?

For a sudden instant he found himself missing his helmet with it's internal screen and helpful annotations. He'd met  _so_  many people these past few weeks.

And they all knew who Finn was on sight. He was THE Finn. The only Finn.  _Just_  Finn. He much had a harder time remembering all the names. He tried his best to.

Seeming to sense Finn's struggle, the bomber smiled enigmatically, "Paige-Paige Tico, and this is Rose."

The sister, Rose, seemed to be a little bit awestruck.

"Right," Finn said carefully. "Bomber squad and..."

When it was clear that her sister was still  _somehow_  too flustered to speak, Paige leaned forward and added, "Mechanical, ship maintenance. Rose makes sure our ships aren't just buckets that fall out of the sky."

Finn and Paige chatted amiably with the rest of the table, until the bombers and pilots started to filter away to prepare for their mission. Before long, only Rose remained at the table, sitting across from Finn in silence. Still staring intensely. He offered a weak smile.

She finally blinked.

"Do you want to see the inside of a RZ-1 A-Wing Starfighter?" she blurted. "I mean, I have to fix a power converter in one today, and I know it's not as exciting or important as being a hero and destroying Starkillers, but I could show you, if you want and it's actually-"

"Okay," Finn interrupted, unable to stop his lips from curling upwards as she rambled. There was something about the younger Tico that made him think of Slip. He wondered whether she felt as much of an outsider here as him.

Rose's jaw dropped, "What? Really?"

"Yeah," he angled his cane and pulled himself to his feet. "We trained for combat and occupation situations in my unit, so I don't know much of anything about mechanical operations."

His mind drifted back to the Millennium Falcon, to when he and Rey had first met.

_"I need the bonding tape, hurry!"_

_"No, that one! No. No. The one I'm pointing to! No. NO. NO. If we don't patch it up, the propulsion tank will overflow and flood the ship with poisonous gas!"_

Finn's smile became wistful. "I've got someone, a friend, who is really good with repairs and stuff too."

"Rey, the Jedi girl, right?"

"Well, I guess."

Rose's eyes practically glazed over.

"Whoa..."

He knew that she'd used the Force to save them from Kylo Ren and he knew the General had sent her on a mission to fine the mythical (or if you grew up in the First Order  _infamous_ ) Luke Skywalker. But it didn't really matter. Finn missed Rey a lot. For herself.

Force or not.

Shrugging, Finn added, "And I've learned it can be handy to know some that stuff. I'd be happy to see what you do."

The small mechanic in front of him beamed.

* * *

Rose Tico worked in a part of the Resistance Base that Finn had never seen before. Massive open hangars dug into the gentle hills of the landscape. Almost invisible to the eye, until the doors were lifted. They were nearer to an edge than the command hub and barracks, as far as he can tell. With a clear view of the jungles that covered D'Qar, the air seemed more moist and the chill made the scar on Finn's back tingle.

The hangars were also surprisingly quiet, with far less activity than Finn had expected. Rose explained it was because the Resistance was short on mechanics, engineers, and even ships, a problem likely made even worse now with the loss of most of the New Republic Fleet and it's sitting government. The Resistance had always been a smaller force, relying on supporters and volunteers, rather than taxation and conscripts.

Finn wondered how numerous the forces of the First Order would be, if Stormtroopers were given a choice.

They discovered very quickly Finn still wasn't great with tool identification. He'd been trying to help his new friend gather her tools beside the RZ-1 whatever it was, when he reached for what he thought was a small metal handle-

"No! Don't touch that end, you'll be electrocuted!" Rose had shrieked, her voice echoing through the large hanger.

"Oh," Finn dropped his hand immediately.

Several other technician's looked over from their work, but his companion waved them off. Rose then picked up the tool -from the opposite end- and pressed it to the side of the spacecraft.

_ZAP_

The pair jumped as a spark flew off the heated metal.

He gulped, "Thanks for that."

"Oh, of course! I mean, I would feel  _awful_  if I let a hero get crispy fried." She grimaced, "I can't believe I just said crispy fried...in front of  _you_ -"

Finn shook his head, "It's fine, you can talk however you normally do. I'm not like some big special-"

"Yes, you are  _THE_  Finn!"

Finn sighed, unable to dissuade her.

Once she'd gotten a bit more comfortable, Rose ended up just narrating her work to him. Most of the time with only her feet and legs visible, or shouting from deep within the bowels of the engine she was assigned to. Finn listened intently, peering in at her from his perch aside the machine, occasionally flipping through his book when the commentary became too technical for him to follow along. He found he preferred stories about people to descriptions of wires.

"That's a really good book," Rose announced at length, head seeming to appear out of nowhere in a spot far from where he'd seen her last.

Finn lifted the book for her to see, "General Organa gave it to me."

"Commander Dameron's mom wrote it. I don't know if you knew," the younger Tico offered, clamoring out of the ship. She settled near his side. "She met them, Rook and the rest of Rogue One. Before they went off and well,  _were_  Rogue One. After the war, she did all this research and wrote about them. To make sure their real lives were properly remembered. It's really good."

"Oh..." he blinked, recalling some of looks on Poe's face when he glanced at the spine of the book. "We learned about the theft of the Orbital Battle Station schematics in training but, this is-it's different. Not about people. It was more about what went wrong, espionage, how to sniff out traitors...it's interesting to read about them this way. A different way of thinking about it."

"What part are you on?"

"Rook has just returned to Jedha with a message for Saw Gerrera..."

"Oh, I like that part!" her face lit up. "Things really pick up from there."

Finn ended up spending the rest of the afternoon reading the book to Rose out loud as she continued on the ship's power converter. They made it another two chapters before she gave a triumphant woop and the ships engines came back to life, Finn letting the words he was reading trail off.

Rose's head appeared again, from yet another spot. She grinned, "Back in business. We've gone right through lunch, but I'm glad it's done. Sorry to keep you so long!"

Leaning forward toward the hanger doors, Finn could see that the sun was already low in the sky. He'd lost track of time. It was late in they day, time having gone much faster today than any since he'd woken up among the Resistance.

"It's okay," Finn replied.

Rose head disappeared again. Finn could hear the sounds of taps against metal as she made her way out of the ship's engine. When she was free, a slight pout pulled her features.

"Thank you for staying. And reading." She crossed her arms, "We were about to meet Chirrut Îmwe and he's my  _favorite_."

Finn was still getting used to a world where he could see everyone's face. Still not always entirely certain what other people's expressions. But there was something in Rose Tico's eyes, something she couldn't seem to say, and he couldn't ignore it.

He held up the book, "Maybe we could keep going tomorrow?"

* * *

On the third day of coming back, Finn finished reading  _The Rogue One_  to Rose.

Visiting the repair hangar was added to his new self imposed routine. It was odd still, to have so many choices of how to spend his time. But Finn found he liked spending time with the young mechanic, for all her occasionally eccentric ways, and found her company to be reassuring.

(Poe, Paige and the others were still out on their mission, and Finn also thought that their visits made Rose feel better too.)

He guessed that was how friendships were supposed to work. Not that Finn had that much experience with them. Poe and Rey and Han counted for sure, and perhaps some of his doctors and the pilots, though he wasn't sure they felt quite the same as each other. Or the same as Rose.

The air felt heavy, heavier than normal, as the two took in the heroic, and never the less tragic deaths of Bodhi Rook and all but one of the Rogue One team. It remained an entirely different version than what Finn had learned training up.

"They were very brave." Rose's voice was thick, "May the Force be with them."

Finn waited for what he hoped was an appropriate pause following that sort of declaration before adding, "Yeah..."

Closing the book, Finn ran his hands over the cover. He had an odd feeling he'd still be thinking of the story for a long time. Rose's head appeared from beneath a battered looking Y-Wing.

"If you like this book you should read about Hera Syndulla, her autobiography actually. It's super interesting too. Some of it's earlier than Rook's era, but she was around for Rogue One stuff as well and after. I might still have a copy on my datapad..."

Finn let her ramble a little, smiling faintly as she crawled out of the ship. She pulled on a wall lever and a rig beneath the vessel tilted it to a new angle, revealing more of the engine.

"We used to read them," Rose continued haltingly, as she climbed into the ship once more. "Paige and me. Stories. I'd pretend we were important heroes too. Not just a couple kids on the run."

His brow furrowed in curiosity, "You were running?"

"We were refugees. From Hays Minor. The First Order came, started mining and testing weapons," her voice wavered. "I don't really remember. I was too small. But Paige said they started kidnapping kids from her school and my creche even. There were protests but no one could stop it. And Hays wasn't a part of the New Republic so...they stayed neutral."

Finn gulped. He'd always known Hays Minor to be one of the numerous Mid Rim planets under First Order control. He'd never thought about  _how_  that came to be. Officially, troopers were taught that any planet with a sensible population would want to join the cause.

He thought of the the junior cadets that came through the Stormtrooper ranks and formed new squads every single year. Finn tried for a moment to imagine either Paige or Rose as troopers. He couldn't see it. Rose was far too short to make the cut, for starters.

"There was a program, from a charity in the New Republic. A humanitarian transport thing. Our parents sold everything we had to get us spaces. And we left. Never saw them again."

She grunted, pushing and twisting on something inside of the ship.

Finn wondered if his own family had tried to prevent his recruitment. Would they even call it that? Rose called it kidnapping.

"First Order fired on the transport ships though. After we left orbit. Some of us got out on escape pods. Paige and I floated for 4 days before being picked up. We nearly ran out of life support, but she read to me her school books. About heroes and stuff. We ended up moving from camp to camp, but Paige always made sure I had food."

Finn got on his knees, wincing at the ache in his back and scooting next to Rose as she continued her work. She didn't meet his eyes. Uncertain as to what to do, he settled for reaching a hand out to her shoulder. Poe did that for him sometimes and it helped.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be," Rose replied, finally meeting his gaze. "It's not your fault and not nearly as bad as what must have happened to y-"

She stopped short, eyes wide as plates, but Finn knew exactly what she was going to say. And, while he supposed it was certainly true from her perspective, and it wasn't like he'd  _loved_  being in the First Order, something about hearing it aloud made Finn uncomfortable.

Rose shrugged, changing the subject swiftly back to her own life.

"I mean it worked out. We crossed paths with the Resistance and they got Paige flight training. Taught me how to do all this. Solid place to stay. I might not actually get to  _be_ like the heroes I read about, but I get to help them."

She grinned tentatively, "And meet them sometimes."

Finn was about to reply when a loud chip echoed through the hangar. They both jumped, Finn nearly hitting his head on the ships low angled wing. He realized it was his comm and made his way back to the bench where he'd left it, the book, and his cane.

It buzzed again, accompanied by a voice.

"Command Center to Finn. This is Lieutenant Connix. Command Center to Finn..."

He rushed to answer, "Finn, here. I'm here. Sorry, I didn't answer on the first-"

"Finn," the voice sounded more metallic than anything else, it didn't seem like the Lieutenant was all that put out either. "I just wanted to inform you. The Millennium Falcon is landing..."

Finn was on his feet, gathering his jacket, book, and cane before he could fully comprehend Connix's explanation. He'd heard all he needed to hear.

He was out the door and half way to the landing pads before it occurred to him that it might be offensive to Rose Tico to just walk out in the middle of a pretty weighty feeling conversation.

Finn felt a little bad, but figured Rose would do the same if it was Paige returning.

He was more certain when he discovered with a quick glance, that the tiny Resistance technician was walking outside as well, right behind him. They walked across the base in silence, with only the sound of their feet and his cane crunching on the gravel guided their way.

* * *

By the time they were closer to the landing pads, Finn could see that already a small crowd had begun to gather around the edges. He made his way as best he could to the front, losing track of Rose somewhat, and felt his heart begin to thunder in his chest as he caught sight of a familiar ship approaching in the sky.

Once the vessel had landed, Finn surged forward even more, falling into step behind some of the Generals and Lieutenant Connix. He didn't know if it was in line with Resistance protocols or not for a civilian to be there and he really did not care.

It was  _Rey._

The loading ramp opened and lowered into place with a hiss and all of the sudden there she was, last to disembark after Chewbacca and an older bearded man. It's only with passing shock that Finn realizes this man must be  _Luke Skywalker_. Rey held back, a small distance from the men, eyeing the crowd warily.

"Rey!" Finn shouted, letting his cane fall from his grasp and stepping in front of even Admiral Ackbar.

Her scowl cleared and she broke into a run down the ramp.

"Finn!"

They all but slammed into each other, arms immediately holding the other close as the momentum pulled them into a slow walking circle. Finn let himself relax, head resting on Rey's shoulder and breathing deeply. She was really here.

 _Really_  alive.

(Not that he'd doubted Poe or the General, but it was something else entirely to actually have Rey in his arms.)

He was haunted in his dreams with images of the last time he saw her, limp in the snow on Starkiller base.

At length Rey pulled back and little, still clasping his hands tightly, which filled him with joy. Her face was so close to his, Finn could see the way the corners of her eyes twitched, as she took in his appearance, like she was examining his every feature. While she did, Finn took the opportunity to do the same.

She had new clothes. Hair down and not in her buns. Dark circles under her eyes.

"You're awake," she breathed, finally breaking the silence.

Finn grinned, "So are you."

"Are you alright?"

"Getting there."

The twinge in his back told Finn that he'd probably need some painkillers tonight, and he might be leaning a little bit heavily on Rey but this was more than worth it.

"Your hair is different," Rey whispered, hand reaching out to touch the side of his face.

Finn covered her fingers with his own. They were cold.

"So is yours."

She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her tired eyes.

"I've missed you so much, Finn," she added thickly, throwing her arms around him once again.

They might as well have been the only people on the planet, and Finn couldn't say how long their hug lasted. But gradually the noises and conversation around them started to filter in. Opening his eyes, and looking over Rey's shoulder, Finn ended up making eye contact with the legendary Luke Skywalker himself.

The Jedi smiled at him as he continued to talk to the various Resistance personnel around them. Something about the man's gaze was too intense. Finn blinked first, pulling Rey a little closer and rocking gently.

"I finally return from years of exile and my sister is away on a mission," Luke huffed, with twinkling eyes. He lifted his shoulders and gestured toward the sky.

"Typical."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally an update! Sorry to take so long on this everyone, but real life got pretty busy there for a while and I lost my writing mojo. Fortunately I got it back. So here's a long, super self-indulgent Finn adjusting to the Resistance chapter. With a bonus of Rose, as I wish she had been. 
> 
> Thank you so much to those of you reading and feel free to let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Initially inspired by a lovely artwork and prompt:  
> "relishing his new found individual freedom to not conform, finn experiments with beards, hair lengths, and clothing styles, much to rey’s enjoyment."  
> I can't find the piece online anymore, but the artist has a ton of other gorgeous art at https://fannray.tumblr.com/
> 
> (Don't worry, Rey and Finn will be reunited soon)
> 
> I've never written for Star Wars before, and I am only just learning about the universe so all errors are my own. Feedback appreciated. Thank you.


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